No Easy Goodbyes
by Mrs Weasley
Summary: Post GoF story. Harry makes a surprising discovery, but finds out that danger is closer than he thinks...PART 14 NOW UP!
1. Part 1

Summary: Post-GOF story. Harry makes a surprising discovery, and finds that danger is closer at hand than he thinks...   
  
Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling, and this story features a few quotes from her work which are used without permission.  
  
Really Long Author's Notes: Well, I haven't posted anything here since I finished the Best Man series in late July. (If you haven't read The Best Man - go read it!) This new story is NOT set in the same universe, so as far as this story is concerned, none of the stuff in my other stories applies. I haven't had any inspiration for an HP story for ages, so thank you very much to Dana, Anne, Alexa, Lupin's Girl, Tim, Al Rey, Princess Kate and everyone else who sent me nice reviews and encouraged me to start writing again. I hope you are not disappointed.   
  
This story begins in the summer following Goblet of Fire, and will be entirely from Harry's viewpoint - most characters don't even appear until Part 2. No romances to begin with, but there may be romance before we're done. (And death. And terror. And some quite weird happenings.)   
  
*****  
  
No Easy Goodbyes - Part 1.  
  
  
Harry Potter lay in bed at 4, Privet Drive, staring out of the window at the sliver of crescent moon shining against a dark sky which was visible from his pillow. The street lamp outside had been broken for a few weeks, which made the moon appear much brighter. Harry, however, was not admiring the moon. He was thinking - reliving in his head, as he had done many times this summer, the evening that Cedric Diggory had died, which was also the last time he had seen or heard from Sirius, his godfather. He was thinking about what Albus Dumbledore had said that evening, when he had sent Sirius off on a mission to begin organizing a resistance force to fight the reborn Voldemort.  
  
"Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher - the old crowd. Lie low at Lupin's for a while, I will contact you there."  
  
Harry wondered if Sirius was at Lupin's house now - wherever that might be. He hadn't heard from Sirius these holidays yet, which worried Harry slightly. Sirius, no matter where he was, usually managed to send Harry some sort of note or message fairly regularly, and it had been almost two months now. Harry hoped that this lack of communication was only because Sirius and Lupin were so busy helping Dumbledore to plan their defence against Voldemort.   
  
Harry blinked seriously into the darkness, and wished he had been allowed to be at Lupin's too, part of the preparations, doing *something* to help against the danger they all knew was coming. He wasn't a child now, after all. He would be fifteen in a few days and, having witnessed the terrible things he had seen during his fourth year at Hogwarts, he wanted to help in Voldemort's downfall more passionately than he had ever wanted anything in his life. The dark fury which always rose inside him when he thought of Cedric's murder started burning in his chest again. He had duelled Voldemort - and won. He had seen a friend callously killed. Harry felt suddenly much older - and achingly regretful. Two feelings which had haunted him throughout these past weeks in Privet Drive.  
  
Trying once more to picture Sirius and Lupin and what they were doing now, Harry wondered again who had been summoned to join them. Mundungus Fletcher - he had heard that name before. He had a sudden memory of Percy Weasley speaking after the riots at the Quidditch World Cup, moaning about having to deal with claims for ruined property.   
  
"Mundungus Fletcher's put in a claim for a twelve-bedroomed tent with en-suite jacuzzi, but...I know for a fact he was sleeping under a cloak propped on sticks."  
  
Despite himself, and his current dark mood, Harry's lips twitched in a smile at that memory.   
  
And who else had been summoned? Arabella Figg? Harry had never heard of her, unless...Figg? Surely not? Harry suddenly sat bolt upright in bed. He had just connected the name with Mrs. Figg, the mad old lady who lived two streets away from the Dursleys, with whom the Dursleys had sometimes left him in earlier years if they wanted to get rid of him. To the younger Harry, she had seemed like a typical elderly Muggle lady, watching television, besotted with her cats and making his visits there thoroughly boring. Could she...possibly...really be a witch? It seemed impossibly unlikely, but in his almost-fifteen years Harry had seen so many improbable and amazing happenings that nothing now, to him, seemed impossible.   
  
Ten minutes later Harry was gently easing back the bolts on the front door and closing it softly behind him, listening carefully for any sign that he had disturbed the Dursleys. But, upstairs, Uncle Vernon's and Dudley's snores reverberated steadily.  
  
He did notice the shining crescent of moon above him now as he jogged stealthily along the deserted night pavements of Little Whinging, crossed Yew Tree Crescent and turned into Mrs. Figg's street, Acacia Avenue. Out of habit, and caution, he had tucked his wand into his pocket, even though he was not allowed to use magic during the holidays.   
  
Like all the other houses in Acacia Avenue Mrs. Figg's house was in darkness. Harry, looking at the silent windows, knew that coming here at night had been silly. He couldn't very well bang on the door at this time and wake Mrs. Figg up, even if she did turn out to be a witch. If she wasn't a witch she would certainly complain to the Dursleys and his life would be made worse than usual. Still, coming here had made him feel that he was taking some sort of action, which was better than the frustration of knowing that others were working against Voldemort while he lay uselessly in bed.   
  
After a few moments, it occurred to Harry that Mrs. Figg's house had an oddly deserted look about it. Most of the houses in the street had their curtains tightly closed and neatly kept front gardens. In the faint light of a nearby street lamp, Harry could see that Mrs. Figg's curtains were not closed, and the grass in her garden had a shaggy look, as if it hadn't received much attention lately. When Harry walked cautiously up the front path, he could see the end of a free newspaper sticking out of the letterbox. He pushed it through, peered through the letterbox and could just make out the dim shapes of letters lying on the mat. The familiar smell of cabbage and cats hung faintly around the front door. It looked rather as if Mrs. Figg was away from home. Had she gone, summoned by Dumbledore, to help against Voldemort? Or had she merely gone away for some normal Muggle reason - a holiday, or a visit, or a stay in hospital? Harry couldn't remember Mrs. Figg ever going on holiday - she didn't like leaving her cats.  
  
At that point, he felt something soft brush against his leg, and looked down to see a baleful pair of yellow eyes staring into his. Blackie, one of Mrs. Figg's current two cats, was stalking around Harry's feet. Meeting Blackie's baleful stare, Harry was reminded of his friend Hermione's cat Crookshanks - although Crookshanks was twice the size of Blackie and had very unusual abilities.  
  
A soft meowing made him look back towards the front gate, and he saw, in the darkness, a fat tabby cat. He couldn't remember what that one was called. "Someone must be feeding you," he said aloud. "Are the neighbours looking after you?"  
  
The two cats sat down and stared hard at him. "Don't look at me," Harry said, shrugging. "I haven't got any food. Where is she? Has she gone away?"  
  
Blackie stood up and walked slowly around the corner of the house. He stopped, and looked back at Harry, swishing his tail slowly. It was as if he was inviting Harry to follow him, and when Harry took two steps towards him, Blackie turned and continued to lead the way around the corner. The tabby cat stayed behind.   
  
Harry followed the black cat along a weedy path and past some dustbins, towards a small porch which had been built on to the back of the house many years ago. The porch windows were grimy, and it had a rather tumbledown look about it. Blackie jumped up on to a windowsill and began to nudge his head urgently against the window. Harry looked at the cat, then stretched out his hand and pushed the window. It swung open.   
  
The cat gave a small approving mew and jumped through the window; Harry heard the soft thud as it hit the floor inside. Looking through, he saw the yellow eyes staring at him again, and something about that stare made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickle. Blackie clearly thought that Harry should follow him inside.   
  
"I hope Mrs. Figg really is away," Harry murmured to himself. "The last thing I need is for her to wake up the neighbourhood screaming about burglars." He put one knee on the windowsill and climbed awkwardly inside.   
  
The inside of the house smelt musty, and the cabbage-and-cats smell was fainter than usual. Harry became more certain, as he followed Blackie down a passageway, that the house was empty.   
  
Harry followed the black cat through Mrs. Figg's dingy living-room, noticing the film of dust on the furniture, and up the staircase. Harry had never been upstairs in Mrs. Figg's house before. Most of the doors were ajar, and he pushed them open very gently. A spare room, the spare bed almost hidden with boxes and bags of junk. An old-fashioned bathroom. A bedroom, with old-lady petticoats hanging from the wardrobe door - Mrs. Figg's room. Empty.   
  
The black cat stopped outside the last upstairs room - the only one with a door that was shut. And locked. Harry looked at the door and hesitated. He had a feeling there was something important in that room. He hesitated again, but decided to risk it -   
  
"Alohomora!" he whispered, and turned the handle.   
  
The door swung open with a creak. This room was at the front of the house, and the faint glow of the street lamp helped Harry to make out the shapes of the objects in the room. More boxes. More bags. A desk piled with a clutter of papers. Harry stared at them hopelessly. He had no idea where to begin looking in this lot, or even what he was looking for, except that he wanted to find some proof that Mrs. Figg and Arabella Figg might be one and the same.  
  
In the corner of the crowded desk top, a lumpy object was covered with a thick cloth. Harry carefully pulled away the cloth, and saw what looked like a dirty glass spinning top - but Harry knew better. It was a Sneakoscope. He owned one himself. And he knew it was proof that Mrs. Figg was not the mad old Muggle he had always thought. Encouraged, he started leafing through the papers on the desk top, straining his eyes to see in the dimness of the room. Now he noticed that several of the papers were actually wizarding parchment. Throwing caution to the wind, he whispered "Lumos!" and in the sudden glow from his wand skimmed the parchments. Names of people he didn't know - scribbled notes he couldn't read - a subscription renewal form for Witch Weekly - a bill from Christopher Caninus, Veterinary Warlock - and finally, a scrap of parchment on which a familiar name jumped to Harry's eye. There was also an address.  
  
"Remus Lupin  
Gatehouse Cottage  
Frittleton  
Yorkshire."  
  
Harry's heart leapt as he read the words. At last, he knew where Lupin, Sirius and the other allies of Dumbledore were gathering, even if he had to admit to himself that he couldn't go there. Dumbledore had sent him to Little Whinging. Sirius would kill him if he turned up unannounced in Frittleton just because he wanted to show how brave he was. Frustration surged up inside Harry again - and that was when the Sneakoscope began a steady whistling sound.   
  
Harry nearly jumped out of his skin, and extinguished the light from his wand instantly. He could hear voices now, somewhere nearby, urgent, low voices, the voices of people who did not want everyone in Acacia Avenue to hear them. Harry crawled across the floor and pulled back the grubby net curtain a tiny bit. His heart sank as he looked out. There was a group of three people standing on the pavement outside Mrs. Figg's house - and they were all wearing dark wizarding robes, hoods covering their heads.   
  
Harry thought quickly. They could be Ministry of Magic wizards, come to investigate his use of underage magic - but he doubted the Ministry would bother to send out three wizards to investigate one small opening charm and one small Lumos charm. No, Harry didn't think these were Ministry wizards. As he looked, the tallest of the three looked up towards the house, seemingly straight at Harry, and Harry was suddenly afraid. He did not recognize the three hooded figures, and yet suddenly he remembered the circle of Death Eaters who had surrounded himself and Voldemort the night of their duel - Harry was convinced that beneath the sleeves of these wizards' robes, he would see the Dark Mark. And he knew instantly that he had to get out of the house. Now.  
  
"Come on!" he hissed urgently at the black cat. Harry stuffed Lupin's address into one of his pockets and his wand into another and, closely followed by Blackie, fled out of the room, down the stairs and back to the porch window. He didn't know whether these wizards were looking for Mrs. Figg or himself, but he knew without a doubt that he did not want them to find him. Trying to be silent as he climbed out of the window, he watched Blackie flee into the back garden and into a clump of trees. "Good idea," Harry breathed, and joined the cat, crouching behind a bush, out of breath.  
  
The voices were still murmuring at the front of the house, and although he couldn't hear the words, Harry didn't like the tones. A moment later he heard them entering the house, no doubt having forced the front door by magic.  
  
The minutes ticked past, and Harry stayed crouching uncomfortably in the bush. The black cat sat beside him, motionless. From the soft sounds he could hear, Harry guessed that the three wizards were searching the house. He could see a light flickering from room to room. If they had been looking for Mrs. Figg, they were going to be disappointed. He was very glad he had removed Lupin's address from the desk - he didn't want them to find that.   
  
Finally - and it seemed an endless time before it happened - Harry heard the sound of the front door closing again, and footsteps on the path. Then it happened. A green light flared briefly from the front of the house - a green light which made Harry shiver. There was a soft chuckle, and a louder word that chilled Harry's blood.  
  
"Morsmordre!"  
  
With a whoosh, something glittering and green erupted like a firework in the sky above Mrs. Figg's house. A skull made of emerald stars, with a serpent for a tongue - Harry only had to glance at it to know what it was.   
  
The Dark Mark.  
  
He was still gazing up at it in horror when he heard a series of soft pops as the three wizards Disapparated on the pavement.   
  
After a few moments of stunned silence, Blackie yowled and fled towards the front path, and Harry, on legs which trembled slightly, followed him.   
  
Acacia Avenue was still quiet. No one in the other houses seemed to have been awoken by the Dark Mark's appearance.  
  
But the tabby cat was lying stiff and dead on Mrs. Figg's front doorstep.  
  
End of Part 1. 


	2. Part 2

Summary: Post-GOF story. After his narrow escape from the Death Eaters, Harry must decide what action to take next.   
  
Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling. Quotes from her books are used without permission.  
  
Author's Notes: I'm so sorry for the delay in posting Part 2, I know Part 1 went up ages ago. First I was really busy and then I was in Paris, so...THANK YOU to all the people who reviewed part 1 and welcomed me back from my writing break. You're all so nice! (wipes away a tear). Anyway, if it's been so long that you can't remember what happened in Part 1, you can click on my name to revisit it! The Death Eaters have killed one of Mrs. Figg's cats and Harry has found Lupin's address. What next?  
  
*****  
  
No Easy Goodbyes - Part 2  
  
Harry stooped over the body of the tabby cat, his hand shaking slightly as he reached out to touch it. It's fur was still warm, and the yellow eyes were open, staring blankly into Harry's in a way which made him shudder. There were no visible wounds on the cat's body; no blood upon the tabby fur. Harry remembered the Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson - how could he forget it? - when he had seen Avada Kedavra, the killing curse, used on a spider by the man they had believed to be Professor Moody. It was the same curse Voldemort had used to kill Harry's parents, and after that lesson Harry had been haunted by the image of their unmarked, lifeless bodies...and then he had seen Cedric...  
  
He was startled out of this reverie by a piercing yowl from behind him, and whipped round jumpily, half-expecting the Death Eaters to return in search of him.   
  
But instead, another pair of yellow eyes stared at him from the darkness, and he remembered Blackie, the other cat.  
  
"Oh, it's you." Harry straightened up and looked around him rather nervously in the darkness. The Dark Mark still glittered, huge and green and menacing in the sky above Mrs. Figg's empty house. Harry couldn't believe that none of the Muggle neighbours had noticed it, but there was no movement from the surrounding houses, other than the rustle of a light breeze passing through the garden bushes.   
  
Harry grasped his wand tightly in his right hand and wondered what to do next. He didn't like to leave the dead cat lying on the doorstep. Mrs. Figg ought to know about it - but where was she? She might be at Lupin's house, but she might be somewhere else altogether. Dumbledore ought to know about this too - Harry was sure he would want to know that the Death Eaters had been here, conjuring the Dark Mark and looking, presumably, for Mrs. Figg.  
  
Harry made up his mind. He bent and picked up the body of the dead cat, shuddering slightly, crossed the front lawn and laid it under a nearby bush, where it would be concealed from the eyes of Mrs. Figg's neighbours for the moment. He would go back to 4 Privet Drive, he decided, and send Hedwig with a message to Dumbledore, describing what had happened and asking him what Harry should do next. Yes, that seemed like the best thing to do. Harry turned, taking one last look at the deserted house, and walked out of the garden gate.   
  
He had walked a few hundred yards up the pavement on his way back from Acacia Avenue to Privet Drive when he became aware that he was not alone. The hairs on the back of his neck were prickling, and when he turned, the black cat was following him, about ten yards behind him. It regarded him with those yellow eyes, and again he was reminded of Crookshanks.  
  
"I can't take you to the Dursleys," he said uneasily. "Sorry, but they'd go mad. They hate Hedwig as it is."  
  
Blackie, however, showed no inclination to turn round and return to Acacia Avenue. When Harry started walking again, Blackie continued to follow him, and eventually, after looking over his shoulder a few more times, Harry shrugged and just kept going.  
  
The Dursleys' house was still in darkness when he returned to it. When he crept out to go to Mrs. Figg's house, Harry had left the front door unlocked, not wanting to run any risks of disturbing the household when he came back. All he could do now, he thought, was to creep in, bolt the door again so that the Dursleys wouldn't know he had been out, get back to his room and send Hedwig to Dumbledore as quickly as possible. After that, he wouldn't be able to do much except wait impatiently for Dumbledore's answer.   
  
Harry sighed as he looked at Blackie, who had sat down by the Dursleys' front gate. "Well, I'll try and nick some food for you later, OK?" he whispered to the cat. "Just don't let them see you hanging around."   
  
Gently, quietly, Harry pushed the front door open and stepped into the hall. He closed the door and was just sliding the first bolt back into place as silently as he could when -  
  
- a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.  
  
"WHAT THE BLAZES ARE YOU DOING, YOU - YOU - UNSPEAKABLE BOY?"  
  
Harry yelled in shock, his heart suddenly pounding like a trip-hammer, spun round, and tried to find the light switch and his wand at the same time. He was still fumbling unsuccessfully when the light came on anyway, flooding the hall with blinding brightness, and he found himself staring into the infuriated piggy eyes of his Uncle Vernon, who was grasping his shoulder in an iron grip. With his fat face reddened with rage, his hair standing on end from sleep, and his body bulging out of his striped pyjamas, Uncle Vernon was not a pretty sight.   
  
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUT OF THE HOUSE AT THIS TIME OF NIGHT? WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?"  
  
As Harry opened and closed his mouth, trying to think of an answer that would not cause further wrath, more lights clicked on upstairs, and hurried footsteps scurried across the landing, before Aunt Petunia's voice shrilled above them.  
  
"Vernon? What's going on?" Aunt Petunia, her bony face covered in a thick layer of night-cream and her hair in curlers, was not a pretty sight either. Her eyes narrowed as she saw Harry. "What's he done now?"  
  
"Done? I've just caught him sneaking back into the house!" Uncle Vernon hissed, sending flecks of saliva flying into Harry's face. "What have you been up to, boy? Creeping out to meet one of your abnormal friends? Or have you been bothering some young girl - if you've laid a finger on Tracey Runton - "  
  
"No!" Harry said hastily. "Honestly, I haven't been out to meet anyone. I was hot and I couldn 't sleep, so I went out to get some fresh air, that's all." He looked hopefully at his uncle. Harry wasn't afraid of his uncle and aunt as he had once been when he was younger, but he really didn't need a huge scene here and now. All he wanted to do was to get that message off to Dumbledore.   
  
"If you expect me to believe that -" Uncle Vernon began.  
  
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" A terrified yell cut across Uncle Vernon. The two Dursleys and Harry froze and looked up as the door of Dudley's room burst open. Dishevelled, pyjama-clad and terrified, Dudley erupted on to the landing, shaking like a huge horrified jelly. "Mum! Dad!" He paused at the sight which met his eyes. "What -?"  
  
"Duddy darling, what's the matter?" Aunt Petunia had swooped on her precious son, throwing her arms as far around him as they would go, which, these days, was only about half-way. "Did you have a nightmare?"  
  
"I - I -" Harry was interested to observe that Dudley seemed genuinely terrified. "I woke up - I heard a noise - someone shouting - "  
  
"No need to worry, Duddykins, that was just Daddy catching Harry doing something he shouldn't be - as usual - now you just go back to bed -" Aunt Petunia said soothingly.  
  
"No! You don't understand!" Dudley pushed her away impatiently. "I got up to see what the noise was - I looked out of the window and - and -" His eyes widened with remembered terror. "There's this horrible - THING - in the sky!"  
  
Harry's heart sank into his trainers.   
  
"A thing in the sky?" Uncle Vernon said, mystified. "What, a UFO or something, you mean?"  
  
"No - a horrible great green thing - like a skull - and - and - a snake!"  
  
Uncle Vernon's gaze swivelled suspiciously towards Harry. "Is this something to do with you?" But without giving Harry a chance to answer, Uncle Vernon pulled the front door open, and marched outside to take a look.   
  
Harry waited in the hall, and, as he expected, there was another yell from his uncle within seconds.   
  
"You boy! Get out here! Petunia! Come and look at what that evil little - WART! - has done now!"  
  
Throwing looks of deep distrust at Harry, Aunt Petunia and Dudley came down the stairs and passed him on their way out of the front door. Reluctantly, Harry followed them into the garden.   
  
The Dark Mark had grown slightly fainter now, and was beginning to fade, the shape a little smoky around the edges, but it was still quite noticeable, hovering sickeningly over Acacia Avenue.   
  
"What - is - that?" Uncle Vernon hissed at Harry, his face even redder than before.   
  
"I didn't do it!" Harry protested, although with little hope of being believed.   
  
"Don't lie to me, boy! This is a respectable neighbourhood - you're the only one who'd be out at night doing abnormal, disgusting - thought you'd have a bit of practice with that wand of yours, did you? Do some conjuring tricks?"  
  
"Honestly, it wasn't -"  
  
"Vernon!" Aunt Petunia's eyes had widened in horror. "What if the neighbours see it in the morning?"  
  
"It'll be gone by morning," Harry said quickly, and then wished he hadn't.  
  
"AND HOW WOULD YOU KNOW THAT, IF YOU DIDN'T PUT IT THERE?"  
  
"Vernon!" Aunt Petunia said again, looking nervously at the houses on either side. "Maybe we should go indoors - we don't want to wake anyone up - and Duddy will catch a cold being out in his pyjamas - "  
  
"Mm," Uncle Vernon grunted reluctantly, and they all trooped back into the hall.   
  
"Look," Harry put in quickly, before Uncle Vernon could get into his verbal stride again, "I didn't put that mark in the sky, but I know who did - dark wizards, really evil ones - and I need to send my owl to our Headmaster to warn him about it - "   
  
"Trying to make up some ridiculous story to get yourself out of trouble - what dark wizards?" Aunt Petunia snapped.  
  
Harry had tried very hard to keep his temper, but now he was starting to get angry.   
  
"The same kind of dark wizards who killed my mum and dad!" he said fiercely. "Now get out of the way and let me send that message to Dumbledore!"   
  
Aunt Petunia had paled at Harry's last words, but Uncle Vernon only seemed more infuriated. "Fine! Right!" he yelled. "And you can tell him to find you somewhere else to spend the rest of the holidays, because we've had enough of you and your - ABNORMALITY!"  
  
Harry bit his lip. "OK. I'll go now, if you like. I'll catch the Knight Bus."  
  
"There isn't a night bus," Aunt Petunia said. "Not on this estate - "   
  
"Not your sort of night bus," Harry said, moving to the foot of the stairs. "The K-n-i-g-h-t Bus. It picks up stranded witches and wizards -"  
  
"Pah!" Uncle Vernon exploded in exasperation again. "Don't tell us about the unnatural things Your Kind do, boy! Just go, if you're going, before the whole neighbourhood knows about what you've been doing!"  
  
But Harry had already fled upstairs to pack, leaving Uncle Vernon still muttering in impotent fury, while Aunt Petunia made soothing noises and bustled round making hot chocolate for Dudley.  
  
Most of Harry's Hogwarts stuff was still in his trunk, so it didn't take him long to pack. He found a piece of blank parchment and a pen, and scribbled his letter to Dumbledore, describing all that had happened at Mrs. Figg's house, and asking what should be done about it. "My uncle and aunt have got fed up with me again," he finished, "so I'm going to - "  
  
He paused. Where was he going? He could go to The Burrow, home of the Weasley family, where he would certainly be given a warm welcome. At the end of last term, Mrs. Weasley had hinted that Dumbledore was going to let him spend part of the holidays there anyway.   
  
Or...  
  
He shoved his hand into his pocket and brought out the scrap of parchment he had removed from Mrs. Figg's desk. It crackled as he unfolded it.   
  
"Remus Lupin  
Gatehouse Cottage  
Frittleton  
Yorkshire."  
  
Harry couldn't deny that he was secretly yearning to go there - to see Lupin - and Sirius - and all the other witches and wizards who were probably gathering to help Dumbledore in the struggle against Voldemort. What would Dumbledore say? Would he think it was all right to go there, or would he say Harry should go to the Weasleys? Or even back to Hogwarts - Harry didn't fancy the idea of being the only student there, with a few teachers and Filch probably watching his every move...  
  
"ARE YOU READY YET, BOY?"  
  
Harry quickly finished his note to Dumbledore, sealed it up and gave it to Hedwig. The white owl hooted softly at him as she took wing from the open window, soaring away into the dark sky. Harry wished he could send notes to Ron and Hermione too, but writing to Dumbledore had to be the most important thing right now, with the Death Eaters active. Harry thrust his writing things into his trunk, closed it and started to lug it, and Hedwig's empty cage, downstairs.  
  
The Dursleys were in the kitchen, where mugs of hot chocolate were on the table and Aunt Petunia was fussing over Dudley. Uncle Vernon was pacing up and down.   
  
"Er - I'm going now," said Harry, but, getting only stony glances in return, he shrugged and turned to the front door.   
  
The Dark Mark had faded a little more, Harry noticed, as he stepped out on to the path, dragging his trunk and the cage behind him. The night was just as dark, with no sign of dawn yet. Reaching the pavement, he wondered uneasily whether he would be able to hail the Knight Bus. Last time, he had hailed it completely by accident. As far as he knew, all he had to do was to stick out his wand hand to flag it down, but what if it didn't work? He'd have to use his broomstick to get anywhere, and he couldn't risk being seen riding it when daylight came, and he had no Muggle money for Muggle transport...   
  
No point panicking until he'd tried, Harry told himself, and he flung out his wand hand in front of him, saying, for good measure, "Knight Bus, please!"  
  
For a second, nothing happened, and then -  
  
BANG! Harry was flung backwards by the rush of wind as the triple-decker purple bus burst out of thin air and screeched heavily to a halt in front of him. The headlights illuminated Privet Drive, and, glancing over his shoulder, Harry grinned as he saw the Dursleys' alarmed faces pressed against the front window of the house.  
  
A conductor in a purple uniform appeared at the door of the bus, and Harry recognised him at once. He was a pimply youth named Stan Shunpike.  
  
"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard, just stick out your wand hand, step on - " Stan broke off half-way through his routine gabble and stared hard at Harry. "'Ere! It's 'Arry Potter again! Wotcha, 'Arry! 'Ere, Ern, look 'oo's 'ere! 'Only 'Arry Potter, innit?"   
  
"Hullo, Stan," said Harry grinning reluctantly at Stan's enthusiasm, though inwardly cringing as he usually did when he was singled out because of his celebrity status.   
  
"'E remembers me!" Stan beamed. "Let me 'elp you with yer stuff, 'Arry." He jumped down to the kerb and helped Harry lug the trunk and Hedwig's cage on to the bus "This yours too, 'Arry?"  
  
"What?" Harry turned, and looked straight into a baleful pair of yellow eyes. The black cat had appeared again, inches from his feet, and, as Harry and Stan watched, the cat leaped lightly on to the step of the bus. Harry shrugged. "Come on then." He seemed to have just acquired a cat, he thought. At least, until he could return it to Mrs. Figg.   
  
"All right, 'Arry?" Ernie Prang, the bespectacled bus driver, gave him a nod of friendly recognition.  
  
"We're quiet tonight," Stan said, jerking his head towards the empty beds on the lowest level of the bus, "so you can take yer pick of the beds, 'Arry - oh, I fink yer cat's chosen for you!"  
  
Blackie was arranging itself comfortably in the centre of the nearest bed, looking quite content. Harry pushed his trunk under the bed.  
  
"Where you going then, 'Arry?" Stan asked, sitting down in an armchair.  
  
"Er - Frittleton," said Harry. "Yorkshire."  
  
"Righto. Take 'er away, Ern."  
  
With another mighty BANG, the Knight Bus vanished into the night, and Privet Drive was quiet once more. Only the green, smoky remains of the Dark Mark in the distance were left to show any trace of the night's more unusual events.  
  
  
End of Part 2.  
  
A/N: I promise I won't keep you waiting so long for Part 3! Please review, I'd be interested to know what people think should happen next (although I may not change my mind!)  
By the way, does anyone know what's happened to Thing1? I was really enjoying reading "Veritas", and now all her work seems to have vanished without trace...  



	3. Part 3

Summary: Post-GOF story. Thrown out by the Dursleys, Harry takes the Knight Bus to Frittleton...  
  
Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling. Quotes from her books are used without permission.  
  
Author's Notes: Thank you to everyone who reviewed part 2. After the little unpleasantness with the Dark Mark and the Dursleys, Harry is now aboard the Knight Bus, hoping to get to Lupin's house...   
  
*****  
  
No Easy Goodbyes - Part 3  
  
BANG!  
  
The Knight Bus made one final leap and landed in a narrow country lane. A hedge jumped out of the way as Ernie slammed on the brakes and the bus skidded to a halt.   
  
"'Ere we are then, 'Arry - Frittleton," said Stan cheerfully, getting out of his chair to help Harry with the trunk and the birdcage. "Cor - proper remote, innit? On'y about six 'ouses in the place. Know where yer going, do yer?"  
  
"Er - yes, thanks," said Harry, not wanting to get into complicated explanations. He climbed down the step to join his luggage in the lane. Blackie jumped down after him. "'Bye, Stan. 'Bye, Ernie." He waved, and they waved back as Stan closed the door. Harry saw Ernie grasp the wheel and press his foot on the accelerator, and a moment later there was another deafening BANG! and the brightly-lit bus was gone, as if it had never been there. Harry was alone.  
  
With the lights from the bus gone, it seemed very dark indeed in the lane. There were no street lights here as there were in Privet Drive; only the tall black hedges and the lane stretching away in both directions. When Harry took a step, he fell over Blackie in the darkness, and there was an indignant yowl.   
  
"Sorry, Blackie. This is ridiculous," Harry muttered, rubbing his shin, and pulled his wand from his pocket. Another rule about to be broken, he mused. "Lumos!"  
  
The light from his wand didn't reach far, but it helped him to see a little way ahead. Harry performed another quick charm to make his trunk weightless, put the cage on top of it, and steered it ahead of him as he walked. Blackie walked with him, sometimes just ahead, sometimes just behind, and sometimes twisting round Harry's legs, which made it very difficult for him not to fall over the cat again.   
  
It seemed very quiet here, after Stan's incessant chatter on the bus. He had been thrilled to see Harry again, and had wanted to know all the details about the Triwizard Tournament Harry had won the previous term. Harry had told him enough details about the first two tasks to keep him happy, but had not said anything about the third task. He did not want to talk about the maze, or Cedric, or Voldemort, or any of the events of that day, at the moment. He spent too much time relieving those events in his dreams, to want to discuss them when he was awake. So it was a relief for Harry to be alone in the night again, with no one pelting him with questions, and the only sound that of his own feet plodding along the lane. Blackie's feet were silent.  
  
Harry wondered if Hedwig had reached Dumbledore yet, and what Dumbledore would think of his actions. Then he wondered where Gatehouse Cottage was, and how long it would take him to find it. Stan had probably been right when he had said that Frittleton was tiny. Harry had been walking for ten minutes before he found the first house; a small cottage set back from the side of the lane. In the light from his wand, Harry could see it had a tidy little garden and a wrought-iron gate. On the gate was a sign which read "Wayside Cottage". Harry wondered whether the inhabitants were wizarding folk or Muggles. The curtains in the windows were drawn, however, and there was no sign of anyone awake. Blackie gave the cottage one glance, and continued to stalk down the lane. Harry followed.  
  
The lane was twisting and turning, and gradually sloping downhill. Harry wondered if it was his imagination that the black sky above the distant blacker moors was turning just a shade greyer - not dawn yet, but a sign that dawn would be coming eventually. As he thought this, the clouds must have parted, because the same crescent of silver moon he had seen over Privet Drive earlier sailed out from the blackness into view, throwing a faint glimmer of light over the lane.   
  
Harry was just starting to get worried that the rest of Frittleton had disappeared, or he was going the wrong way, when he noticed a break in the tangled hedges a little way ahead of him. As he got nearer, he saw that it marked an overgrown five-barred gate leading off the lane. The gate was broken, hanging off its hinges in a way that suggested it was little used; but hidden in the brambles and undergrowth on either side of the gate there were two stout stone pillars. On the top of each pillar - Harry raised his glowing wand and pulled leaves aside to have a closer look - was a carved stone owl, rather weatherbeaten now, and looking very old. And - Harry pulled aside more leaves - carved into the pillar itself were some letters, very difficult to make out...  
  
"Bl....something...dale....H...se," Harry read. "That last bit must be 'House'." Peering beyond the gate, he could make out a twisting, smaller lane or driveway which disappeared into many trees; and, just as the trees began, Harry could see the dark bulk of a building, with chimneys dark against the sky. It looked like a lodge, the kind of small house which would be at the entrance to an estate, where a larger house would be further up the drive.  
  
A lodge? Or...a gatehouse? It was worth a look, and Blackie had already slunk through a gap in the rotting five-barred gate and was waiting for him on the other side. Harry pushed the gate, and it keeled drunkenly over on one hinge, leaving a gap big enough for him to steer his luggage through. He walked cautiously up the narrow driveway, following the black cat. As he got nearer to the small house, Harry could see an iron garden gate, with a metal arch over the top of it, and a lamp burning on the top of the arch. The house seemed to be occupied, anyway, although there were no sounds coming from it as Harry approached. Reaching the garden gate, he did not need to use his wand, but could read the name on the gate clearly by the light of the lamp above.  
  
"Gatehouse Cottage."  
  
Harry's spirits lifted. Even if Lupin - or Sirius - was going to be furious with him for coming unannounced, at least he had found the right house, and he was pretty confident they would not throw him straight back out on to the streets. He was probably going to wake them up rather early, but it couldn't be helped. Harry let his trunk sink to the ground, pocketed his wand and reached out a hand to open the garden gate, Blackie twisting around his legs again. It was then that he heard a sudden noise - the quiet crunch of a stealthy foot on a path - and he whipped round, but not quickly enough -  
  
"STUPEFY!"  
  
Harry fell, stunned, and knew no more for some time, as the night around him was replaced by the deeper blackness of unconsciousness...  
  
*****  
  
"Harry? Can you hear me?"  
  
"Oh, just let me do it, Remus - Enervate!"  
  
"Harry? You should be all right now - can you open your eyes?"  
  
Slowly, reluctantly, Harry forced his eyes to open a crack, feeling his head throbbing slightly. Someone was leaning over him...Harry opened his eyes a bit wider and saw a concerned face looking down at him - the rather lined, but kind face of his ex-Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher, Remus Lupin.   
  
"Professor Lupin," he croaked, now becoming aware that he was lying on some sort of sofa, which smelt rather musty. "I found you, then. Is Sirius here?"  
  
"Yes, he is," said the voice of his guardian in his left ear, sounding rather grim. "But Sirius would very much like to know what YOU are doing here, Harry. You're supposed to be in Surrey with your uncle and aunt. What's happened?"  
  
Harry twisted his head round, and saw Sirius, tall, thin and dark, standing next to the sofa, his arms folded and his dark eyes glinting. Harry felt a qualm at Sirius's expression.  
  
"Um - I told Dumbledore I was coming," he said quickly, trying to sound reassuring. He went to sit up, and felt his head throb. "Ow!"  
  
"Careful, Harry," said Lupin, handing him a glass of water. Harry saw that they were in a small, rather shabby sitting-room, lit by several flickering lamps. Besides the sofa, there were two faded but comfortable-looking armchairs, a desk covered in papers, and bookshelves all round the walls filled with a jumble of fascinating-looking books. "You'll probably have a bit of a headache for a while," Lupin told him.  
  
"What happened just now?" Harry asked, sitting up more carefully. "I was opening the garden gate, and - "  
  
"Ah - hem - "   
  
Harry heard a nervous cough from behind him, and turned. A short, elderly wizard, wearing very battered old robes, was standing by a door. He had a pointed nose, a short, grey goatee beard and a rather shifty-looking expression. He appeared to be nursing one hand. "Ah - yes, sorry about that, Harry. Was on guard duty, you know, just checkin' the place over, makin' sure no suspicious characters about, you know. Heard you comin', just went for the old wand a bit too quick - "  
  
"He means he Stunned you," said Sirius dryly. "Still, if you will creep up to the house in the middle of the night - "  
  
"This is Mundungus Fletcher, Harry," Lupin intervened quickly. "He's staying with me too, for a while. We've had a lot to talk about."  
  
"I've heard of you," Harry said, to Mundungus Fletcher. "The Weasleys have mentioned you, and Dumbledore too."   
  
Fletcher looked gratified. "Really, Dumbledore, eh? Well, sorry again, Harry, obviously if I'd known it was you - bit jumpy, you know, with all that's been happenin' - and then that dashed cat - " He had a blood-stained handkerchief wrapped around his hand, Harry noticed. "After I'd Stunned you, animal jumped on me, scratched me hand - "   
  
"Yes - is that animal something to do with you, Harry?" Sirius asked, pointing at the black cat, which was sitting on the back of an armchair looking very disgruntled. "After it maimed Mundungus, it wouldn't let me or Lupin get near it."  
  
"Blackie!" Harry called softly to the cat, and he was rather gratified when the cat looked at him, jumped lightly down from the armchair, sprang on to the sofa and then on to his lap, where it settled itself down, and started purring audibly.   
  
Lupin looked rather amused. "You seem to have acquired a new friend, Harry."   
  
Sirius sat down in an armchair opposite Harry and looked at him intently. "Never mind that - what I want to know is, what's happened and why are you here? Is something wrong at your uncle and aunt's house?"  
  
"You could say that," Harry told him. He wasn't fooled. Sirius was trying to look severe, but Harry could tell that he was actually quite glad to see him. "I was in bed, and I was thinking about what Professor Dumbledore said - after the Triwizard Tournament - when he sent you to see Professor Lupin - "  
  
Sirius, Lupin and Fletcher listened, as Harry described what had happened that night. He told them how he had gone to Mrs. Figg's house, found it deserted, found Lupin's address and then seen the arrival of the Death Eaters. When he described how the Death Eaters had sent the Dark Mark up over Mrs. Figg's house and killed her other cat, Harry saw Sirius and Lupin exchange looks of consternation. Harry continued, telling them how he had been caught returning to the house by Uncle Vernon, and then thrown out by the Dursleys.   
  
"I told them I hadn't put the Dark Mark there, but they didn't believe me. So I thought I'd better come here and tell you, because Mrs. Figg ought to know about it. But I sent Hedwig to Dumbledore, telling him I was coming here. Then I caught the Knight Bus - and found you."   
  
Harry stopped talking, and stroked Blackie's head, not looking at Sirius or Lupin. He was hoping very hard that they would let him stay here with them for a while, not pack him off to Dumbledore or somewhere else for safe keeping.  
  
"Those flamin' Death Eaters - what'll Arabella say about this?" Mundungus Fletcher said, sounding exasperated. "An' still Fudge makes out nothin's happenin' - "  
  
"Hmm," he heard Lupin say. "Well, I'm sure we'll hear from Professor Dumbledore as soon as he gets your owl, Harry, but I think I'll send him a message myself too. In the meantime - "  
  
Harry looked up hopefully.  
  
" - it's getting light outside, but some of us haven't had much sleep. Mundungus, you've been up most of the night - you'd better go to bed. Sirius, if you don't mind keeping a watch out for owls - or anything else which might appear - I'll get a bed ready for Harry."  
  
Blackie refused to be disentangled from Harry's lap, so he carried the cat with him when he got up to follow Lupin. They went through the door into a tiny hall, in which there was a coatstand which held a jumble of cloaks. Harry glimpsed a small, old-fashioned kitchen through another door - it reminded him a little of the Weasleys' kitchen. Lupin led him from the hall and up a narrow staircase to a landing, covered in carpet so faded it was impossible to tell what the pattern had been. Several doors led off the landing, but Lupin reached up a long arm and pulled a handle, opening a trap-door in the low ceiling. Harry watched as Lupin pulled down a wooden ladder and made it secure. "Up you go, Harry."  
  
Harry had to persuade the cat to take its claws out of his clothes before he could climb the ladder. Blackie finally condescended to be put down on the floor, and then, to Harry's surprise, the cat jumped on to the lowest rung of the ladder and shot up it ahead of him. Harry followed, and found himself in an attic bedroom, with a low, sloping ceiling which meant he had to duck his head in places. At the far end of the room was a small square window, through which a little grey dawn light was seeping, but it was too dim to light up the room.   
  
"Lumos!" Lupin had followed Harry up the wooden ladder. In the light from Lupin's wand, Harry saw that on one side of the room was a bed, covered in a blanket made from different coloured knitted squares sewn together. There was a long wooden chest against the other wall, and a stack of large boxes which looked as though they were full of junk, but not much else. A rug had been laid on the bare wooden floorboards. Dust covered everything, and Harry got the impression that this attic had not been used for some time.  
  
"Hmm, it's a bit of a mess, I'm afraid," Lupin said apologetically, and cast a few energetic cleaning charms which dispersed most of the dust from the bed and floor, though it made both Harry and Lupin cough in the process. "We can clean up properly later."  
  
"It's fine," said Harry, encouraged by these words, which suggested Harry might be staying for more than one night.  
  
"We used to use this room as a place to hang out sometimes, when we were on holiday from Hogwarts," Lupin said, looking at the mess of boxes. "I don't know what's up here, exactly, but a lot of our stuff must still be here."   
  
"Did you live here before, then?" asked Harry, very interested.  
  
"Yes - my parents moved here while I was in my third year at Hogwarts," Lupin said. He hesitated, as if about to say more, then seemed to change his mind, and closed his mouth. "Get some sleep, Harry. We'll talk later."   
  
When Lupin had gone back down the stairs, Harry flopped down on the bed, suddenly aware that he was very tired after his night's journey. He lay back on the knitted blanket, not bothering to pull back the bedclothes, and looked across the room at the little square window and the dark bulk of the wooden chest. Blackie landed on his chest with a thump and a mew, and Harry put out a hand absently to stroke the cat. "Well, we're here," he said aloud. There were still a lot of unanswered questions buzzing around his brain, but drowsiness was slowing down his thoughts, and within a few minutes Harry and the cat were both fast asleep.  
  
*****  
  
Harry was awoken by a blaze of daylight hitting his closed eyelids, and the smell of frying bacon. He opened his eyes, and then screwed them up at the brightness shining through the square window. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was. "Lupin's house!" he said out loud, and sat up eagerly. There was a thud and an indignant mew as Blackie fell off the bed.   
  
"Sorry!" Harry swung his feet on to the floor and hurried over to look out of the rather dirty window. He could see the tiny front garden beneath him, and the gate where Mundungus Fletcher had surprised him last night. Beyond that he could see the path that disappeared into the trees, but he could also see, far above and beyond them, the rolling moors in the distance. Tiny sheep were dotting the hillsides, but there were no signs of any other houses - at least, not in that direction. It really was a remote area, Harry realised.   
  
He turned, on hearing a scuttling sound, and realised it was the sound of Blackie's paws on the wooden floor as the cat hurried down the ladder in search of breakfast. "Good idea," Harry said, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He discovered a small bathroom just off the landing and splashed cold water on his face until he felt more awake.   
  
"That you, Harry?" he heard Sirius call up the stairs. "Want some breakfast?"  
  
"Yes, please!" Harry answered cheerfully, as he ran downstairs and arrived in the kitchen. Breakfast was already in progress. Sirius was standing beside the stove, turning some bacon in a frying pan. Lupin was nowhere in sight, but two people were seated at the wooden table. One was Mundungus Fletcher, his mouth full of toast and a large mug of tea at his elbow. The other -  
  
"Mrs. Figg!" Harry exclaimed, and the elderly lady smiled at him.   
  
"Good morning, dear boy. You've grown taller since I last saw you."  
  
It seemed so strange to see her there, Harry thought. He was so used to thinking of Mrs. Figg in association with Little Whinging and the Dursleys, that seeing her in the same room as Sirius Black felt very peculiar. Harry turned to find Sirius holding a plate of bacon, mushrooms and toast out to him, and discovered that he was suddenly ravenously hungry. He sat down at the table. Blackie promptly jumped on to his knee and began to eye Harry's bacon with interest.   
  
"Here, Blackie," said Mrs. Figg, holding out a scrap of bacon to the cat. Blackie eyed her coldly, before turning back to Harry and fixing a yellow-eyed stare on his plate again.   
  
Mrs. Figg looked surprised, then laughed. "I think Blackie's chosen a new owner," she said ruefully. "I suppose life with an old lady like me can't be that exciting for her."  
  
"Her?" Harry asked in surprise, swallowing a mouthful of mushrooms and toast. "Is it a girl cat, then?" It had never occurred to him to wonder whether Blackie was male or female.  
  
"Certainly. And you seem to be the object of her affections."  
  
Harry remembered something, and looked uncomfortably across the table at Mrs. Figg. "Did - did they tell you what happened when I went to your house, Mrs. Figg?" he asked worriedly.  
  
Mrs. Figg sighed. "Yes. I suppose I should be thankful neither you or I were found there, dear boy, but...poor Silky." Harry realised she was talking about the cat who had been killed.   
  
"Unfortunately, Voldemort and his henchmen aren't likely to stop at killing cats," Sirius said brusquely, as he sat down next to Harry.   
  
Mundungus Fletcher flinched at the mention of Voldemort's name. "This is only the beginnin'," he said. "I remember last time - " He broke off, as Lupin opened the back door and came into the kitchen.   
  
"'Morning, Harry," he said, sounding quite cheerful. "I've heard from Professor Dumbledore - there's a note for you too." He held out the note to Harry, who took it with some trepidation.  
  
"Where's Hedwig?"  
  
"Having a sleep. Don't worry, she's fine - she seems to have taken a fancy to the roof of my shed as a perch," Lupin said, with a smile.   
  
Harry opened Dumbledore's note.   
  
"Dear Harry,  
Thank you for letting me know about the events of last night. In the circumstances, it is probably better if you do not return to your uncle and aunt until next summer. Professor Lupin has kindly offered to let you stay with him for a few weeks, and I think you will be safe there for the moment. I shall be in contact with you again if there is any further news, or if I think you are in danger.   
  
Albus Dumbledore."  
  
Harry couldn't stop a grin spreading over his face as he refolded the note. "He says I can stay!" he said happily, before a thought struck him, and he looked at Lupin anxiously. "Professor - you don't mind, do you? I don't want to be a bother - "  
  
"It's quite all right, Harry," Lupin said, his tired face creasing in a smile. "We could do with some younger company to liven the place up. And - I think you can stop calling me Professor now. After all, if you call Sirius by his first name, you might just as well say Remus too."  
  
"All right - Remus," said Harry. It felt rather strange using his ex-teacher's first name, but he supposed he would get used to it. He passed Blackie a piece of bacon. "I think I'll write to Ron and Hermione after breakfast," he said, "and tell them where I am."   
  
End of Part 3.  
  
  
A/N: I was going to make this part longer, but decided to cut it off here in favour of getting SOMETHING posted!   
I'm sorry if it seems there is a lot of lead-in to this story and not enough action; however, having planned out the whole story it is going to be longer and more complicated than I first thought. Really, I'm just trying to lull you into a false sense of security before VERY BAD things happen!  
In Part 4 - Harry has his 15th birthday, Hedwig meets Blackie, other characters reappear, and we find out the history of the Lupins at Gatehouse Cottage. 


	4. Part 4

Summary: Post-GOF story. Harry gets some birthday surprises, and feathers fly when Hedwig meets Blackie...  
  
Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling. Quotes from her books are used without permission.  
  
Author's Notes: Mostly a nice happy part, with just a few hints of trouble to come...(laughs evilly)  
  
*****  
  
No Easy Goodbyes - Part 4  
  
  
Harry was kneeling on the floor of his new attic bedroom at Gatehouse Cottage, unpacking his trunk. He was enjoying arranging his possessions - it made this room feel as though it belonged to him. His Firebolt was propped in a corner, and his Sneakoscope and his schoolbooks were piled on top of the big wooden chest. He wondered what was in the chest, and the pile of boxes against the wall. Lupin - no, Remus - had hinted that some of the things in there might have belonged to his father and his friends during their Hogwarts days. Harry resolved to ask Remus if he would mind Harry having a look through the boxes later.   
  
Harry had sent Hedwig off after breakfast with a message for Ron, asking him to tell Hermione the news about where Harry was. Mrs. Figg had kept Harry talking for a long time, asking him about school, and lecturing him about stories she had heard about the youth of today. Harry thought that the Mrs. Figg of the magical world had quite a lot in common with the Mrs. Figg he had known in Little Whinging, although he knew that at heart she was on his side.   
  
Halfway through Mrs. Figg's interrogation of Harry, Blackie had got bored and disappeared into the back garden. It had been another twenty minutes before Harry had managed to escape on the excuse of tidying his bedroom, a pursuit of which Mrs. Figg approved.  
  
Harry was just casting another satisfied glance around his attic when there was a most peculiar uproar of noise from the garden. It sounded like hissing, spitting, squawking, screeching - Harry couldn't imagine what it was, but the noise had barely broken out when he heard startled yells, the noise died down a bit and was followed by a bellow from Sirius.  
  
"HARRY! GET DOWN HERE!"  
  
Startled - he couldn't imagine why Sirius should be yelling at him in such an Uncle-Vernonish manner - Harry shot down the attic ladder, down the stairs, through the kitchen and out into the back garden, where -  
  
"Oh dear."  
  
Sirius gave him a very exasperated look. " 'Oh dear', he says. Hear that, Remus? I get sliced to ribbons, you get pecked to pieces, and all HE has to say is 'Oh dear'."  
  
Harry, although concerned, just failed to conceal a grin at this. Sirius and Remus were both standing in the middle of the long grass of the back garden. Sirius was clutching Blackie to his chest, and Remus had Hedwig pinned against his shirt. Blackie was still putting up a fight, keeping up a low, furious grumble in her throat, her claws firmly planted in Sirius's skin. Hedwig's amber eyes were wide with indignation, and her feathers were all on end. The grass was sprinkled with white feathers and tufts of black fur.  
  
"Harry," Remus Lupin said in an even but pained voice, "please calm your animals. They don't seem to have taken to each other." He loosened his grip on Hedwig as he spoke, and she took off in a flurry of feathers and injured dignity, swooping across the garden and landing on Harry's shoulder, hooting in a most offended manner.  
  
Harry ran his hand over Hedwig gently, worried that she might have damaged her wings or her legs, but, apart from a few broken and missing feathers she seemed to be uninjured.   
  
Sirius unhooked Blackie's claws from his robes, using a few words to describe the cat which would have shocked Professor McGonagall or Mrs. Figg if they had heard them. Blackie leaped to the ground looking just as furious and offended as Hedwig, and prowled towards Harry.   
  
"Now listen, you two," Harry told them, "if you both want to stay with me, you've got to learn to live together. If there's any more fighting, I'll have to give you back to Mrs. Figg, Blackie, and send you to Ron for the rest of the holidays, Hedwig."  
  
Both creatures gave Harry very dirty looks, but stopped spitting, hissing or screeching at each other.  
  
"You reckon they can follow your reasoning, do you?" said Sirius sceptically, watching Harry stroke both cat and owl in a soothing manner, one with each hand.   
  
"Hedwig usually knows what I want her to do," Harry explained, "and I think Blackie's really clever too." A thought struck him, and he looked around the little garden, overgrown and wild with thick hedges of roses and brambles. "Hedwig must have come back from Ron's - is there a message anywhere?"  
  
"She must have dropped it when she - er - met - your cat," Remus said, looking around.   
  
Harry spotted the battered envelope lying half under a bush, picked it up and opened it. As he expected, the note was from Ron.  
  
"Dear Harry,  
  
So you're at Lupin's? And Snuffles is there too? Excellent! I bet you'll have a lot more fun there than at the Dursleys'. Nothing much happening here - Dad's spending a lot of time meeting people about You-Know-What. Percy's always at work. Fred and George have gone back to their inventing - I think they're working on a trick cauldron, so watch out in Potions next term.  
  
Had a letter from Hermione yesterday, she says she's finished all her holiday homework - what a surprise. Seems like she didn't go to see Krum in Bulgaria after all - maybe her parents wouldn't let her. I've just written to tell her what happened to you. I don't know if Dumbledore will let you come to us now, but maybe we can meet up somewhere. I'd like to see Snuffles and Lupin again.  
  
Keep in touch and let me know what's happening. I'll send your birthday present to Lupin's.  
  
Ron."  
  
Harry read Ron's letter to Sirius and Remus, who both laughed when he read the part about Fred and George's inventions. At the end, though, Sirius looked thoughtful. "I'd forgotten your birthday was so soon, Harry. What is it - " he thought for a moment, " - the day after tomorrow?"  
  
Harry nodded. He had almost forgotten about it himself, with all that had been happening. He would be fifteen in just two more days.  
  
*****  
Two days later...  
  
Harry was having a strange and frightening dream, different from any of the bad dreams he had had before. It was not about his parents' death, nor about Cedric's death, this time. In his dream, he was standing on a grassy hilltop. Old grey stones poked up here and there among the grass, but it was not a graveyard. Grey clouds were swirling in the sky, and a heavy mist was coming down until he could hardly see in front of him. Dark figures were appearing in the mist, in front of him, and all around him. He couldn't see their faces. Wand in hand, he was ready to defend himself against them. Yet - strangely - he wasn't as worried about the danger as he might have been, because he knew that on either side of him he had allies. Someone was standing there, ready to help him - but who was it?  
  
When he turned, looking for the face of his ally, there was no one there. Only the grey mist, swirling thicker than ever.   
  
Harry woke, with a strange sense of loss. He reached for his glasses, and his hand met soft fur instead. Blackie was lying comfortably across his chest, as she had done every night since they had arrived at Gatehouse Cottage. Stroking her warm body, hearing her steady purr, Harry felt comforted, and was able to put the strange dream out of his mind. It was just a dream, for a change. There was nothing in it about Voldemort, his scar didn't hurt - it was just a dream, like other people had.  
  
"Harry! Breakfast!"  
  
Harry was starting to get used to the routine of life at Gatehouse Cottage. This was the third morning now that he had got up in the attic bedroom, washed, dressed and gone downstairs to the tiny kitchen for breakfast.   
  
Except that this morning, there was a difference. As he entered the kitchen, there was a massed shout which made him step back in surprise and made Blackie flee from the room, startled.  
  
"Happy Birthday!"  
  
Harry stared in astonishment at the banners and balloons which decorated the kitchen, giving it a very festive air. Breakfast was laid on the table, and Sirius, Remus and Mundungus Fletcher were standing around the table, grinning. Mrs. Figg was busy at the stove, but she had paused to join in the greetings.  
  
"How does it feel to be fifteen?" Sirius asked, giving him a hug.  
  
"Great." Harry was still rather shocked. "I wasn't expecting all this. You shouldn't - "  
  
"Yes, we should," said Sirius cheerfully, motioning Harry towards a chair. "I don't suppose the Dursleys ever made much fuss over your birthdays."  
  
"Er - no, not really," said Harry. That was an understatement, he reflected. He couldn't stop a grin spreading across his face as he sat down.   
  
"Toast, Harry?" Remus asked, passing him a plateful.   
  
Mundungus Fletcher cleared his throat. "Ah - hem - er - be glad if you'd take this - just a little somethin', you know." He passed a small parcel wrapped in rather dirty brown paper across the table to Harry.   
  
"Thanks," said Harry. He tore off the paper, and saw a packet of Liquorice Wands. "Thanks," he repeated, rather embarrassed.  
  
There were three more parcels and a pile of cards in the middle of the table. Remus pushed a flat package across to him. "Don't think I'm trying to encourage you," he said, watching Harry unwrap it, "but it looked quite entertaining. Just don't tell Professor McGonagall I gave it to you."  
  
Harry grinned as the wrapping paper fell away, to reveal a book. It was the latest, updated edition of "Curses and Counter-Curses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies)" by Professor Vindictus Viridian.  
  
"Great!" Harry said, flicking through the pages. "I'll have to try a few out on Malfoy next term. Thanks, Remus."  
  
"I hope you're not leading that boy into bad ways," Mrs. Figg said severely, looking up from the stove.   
  
Remus looked slightly abashed.   
  
"I've known these two since they were your age, Harry," Mrs. Figg continued, waving her hand towards Sirius and Remus, "and some men never become responsible." Having directed another crushing look at Sirius and Remus, she pulled a small package out of the pocket of her robes. "Happy Birthday, Harry."  
  
Mrs. Figg's present turned out to be a small green velvet collar with a gold name-tag on it. "For Blackie," she said with a sniff and a small smile at Harry.   
  
"Good luck trying to fit a collar on that animal," muttered Sirius, who had still not forgiven Blackie for the scratches she had inflicted on him when he had broken up her fight with Hedwig. "There you go, Harry," he added, handing over his present.   
  
Sirius's present reduced Harry to admiring silence when he had opened it. "Wow," he said finally, turning the golden watch over in his hands. It was an astromomy watch, and had twelve hands and no numbers, but tiny planets were moving around the edge. "Dumbledore's got one of these - and Professor Sinistra - but I never - wow, thanks Sirius!"   
  
"Glad you like it," Sirius said, helping himself to toast.   
  
"So, anythin' planned for the rest of today?" Mundungus Fletcher asked, from the other side of the table, where he was eating enthusiastically, flecks of egg yolk in his beard.  
  
"We thought we'd have a birthday tea this afternoon," said Remus. "Arabella has very kindly offered to make a cake."  
  
Harry wasn't sure that this was good news. He'd had experience of Mrs. Figg's cakes before, and he doubted whether they would have improved just because he now knew she was a witch. Still, he couldn't really complain - this was already the best birthday he'd ever had, simply because he didn't have to spend it at the Dursleys' house.  
  
Harry spent most of the morning in the garden, trying to promote friendship between Blackie and Hedwig. He had found that Blackie was amazingly good at finding things, so he hid some small objects around the garden and encouraged her as she hunted them down. After she had found them all, he fitted her green collar on to her. Surprisingly, Blackie didn't seem to mind wearing it. In fact, she seemed quite vain about it, and Remus swore she was admiring herself in all the shiny surfaces she could find.   
  
Harry was still laughing at Blackie's vanity when two large brown owls arrived in the garden, lugging a heavy parcel between them. They dropped it and made off rather quickly when they saw Blackie eyeing them measuringly. When Harry opened the parcel, he found a birthday card from Hagrid.   
  
"Dear Harry,  
  
Hope you like this. It's from me and Madame Maxime. Might come in handy some time. Can't tell you where I am. You know I'm doing a job for Dumbledore. Take care of yourself though.  
  
Hagrid."  
  
Hagrid and Madame Maxime's present turned out to be a crossbow, like Hagrid's but smaller, and a quiver of arrows to go with it. Harry was delighted with Hagrid's present, since he had always secretly wanted to have a go with Hagrid's own crossbow. He was, however, rather surprised and disappointed that he had not heard anything from Ron or Hermione. He comforted himself with the reflection that he might hear from them later in the day.   
  
Harry spent a happy hour trying out his new crossbow, aiming it at the little unripe apples on the tree at the end of the overgrown garden. The novelty had not worn off yet when Remus came to call him in for tea.   
  
There was a small smile lurking about Remus's mouth as he said, "Leave me a few apples, won't you, Harry? We're all waiting for you."  
  
The reason behind the smile was explained when Harry walked into the kitchen - and stopped dead with astonishment for the second time that day. The table was groaning with cakes and party food, and the kitchen seemed fuller of people than it had at breakfast or lunchtime. Smiling at him from the other side of the table were -  
  
"Surprise!"  
  
"Ron! Hermione!" Harry exclaimed. "How did you get here?"  
  
"Nice to see you, too," said Hermione dryly, getting up to give him a hug. "Professor Lupin invited us to your party."  
  
"Happy Birthday," said Ron, grinning. He waved a hand at the laden table. "Mum sent you a box of cakes for tea."   
  
"Looks great," Harry said happily, sitting down and admiring the enormous chocolate birthday cake Mrs. Weasley had made, which was the centrepiece of the table. He wondered what had happened to Mrs. Figg's cake - perhaps Remus had persuaded her it would not be needed. Mrs. Figg was looking a bit sniffy, though, as she poured out the tea. He hoped she hadn't taken offence.  
  
"I never thought you'd be coming here!" Harry told his friends, as everyone settled down to eat. Ron and Hermione had already been introduced to Mrs. Figg and Mundungus Fletcher.  
  
"Well, we only got our invitations a couple of days ago," Hermione said. "My parents dropped me off at Ron's house, and then we came here by Floo Powder - Professor Lupin sent us instructions."   
  
"Bet you're glad to be away from those Muggles," said Ron. "Oy!" Blackie had just jumped on to his lap and nipped a tasty piece of ham sandwich from his hand. Having done so, she returned to her post next to Harry's chair, licking her lips smugly.  
  
"Is that cat yours, Harry?" Hermione asked, and Harry explained how he had come to acquire Blackie.  
  
"Not another cat," Ron moaned half-heartedly, and Hermione poked him in the ribs with her elbow.  
  
"You quite like Crookshanks now," she pointed out. Ron rolled his eyes.  
  
Harry hastened to change the subject, and showed them the golden watch Sirius had given him. Ron quite forgot his grievance as he admired the watch enthusiastically; and it prompted both him and Hermione to dig out their own present for Harry from Hermione's bag. They explained that they had gone halves to buy him a set of replica Chudley Cannons robes. Harry guessed from Ron's expression, though, that he still owed Hermione some of the money for his half of the present.   
  
By the time tea was over, everyone was so full of Mrs. Weasley's cooking that they were almost unable to move. Sirius suggested a walk to work off all the food, but Mrs. Figg said rather pointedly that someone would have to clear up. Remus pacified her by offering to help, and Harry, Ron and Hermione decided to go with Sirius.   
  
"I haven't really seen much of the countryside around here," said Harry, as they went out through the front gate, "except on the night I arrived, and it was dark then."   
  
Sirius pointed down the lane. "Well, that lane leads to the village - eventually. But I suggest we go this way - " He pointed through the trees at the driveway which twisted and disappeared into the undergrowth. "We can get up to the moor then."  
  
They set off, Blackie shadowing Harry so closely that he had to be careful not to tread on her paws if he or she stopped suddenly.  
  
"Phew, I certainly need the exercise," Sirius said, patting his stomach as they walked into the darkness of the tree-lined drive. "Your mother's a fantastic cook, Ron. I'm afraid none of us here can claim to do anything more than basic survival cooking."  
  
"Well, if you send her a glowing letter about her cakes, she'll probably send you food parcels," Ron said with a grin. "She likes feeding people up."  
  
"You managed not to let Mrs. Figg make a birthday cake, then," Harry said to Sirius, falling into step beside him.  
  
Sirius shuddered slightly. "She still scares me. Don't get me wrong - Arabella's the salt of the earth - it's just that - well, she used to be a great friend of my Aunt Florence - truly terrifying lady, my Aunt Florence - and between them they could reduce me to a quivering heap when I was at Hogwarts. I think as far as Arabella's concerned, Remus and I aren't much older or more responsible than you three."  
  
"Sirius," Hermione said from behind them, "where does this drive lead to? I saw the gateposts with the owls on - is there a bigger house further up the drive?"  
  
Harry couldn't see Sirius's face properly in the gloom from the overhanging trees, but there was a pause before he heard his godfather say, "Not any more. There used to be." There was an odd note in his voice.  
  
"Remus told me his family used to live in Gatehouse Cottage when he was at Hogwarts," Harry said carefully, wanting to know the story but not wanting to bring up painful memories for Sirius.   
  
"Yes." They emerged at last from the trees, and paused. The path had led them on a twisting route. Weeds and grass covered the surface of what had once been a gravelled drive. In front of them, the countryside had suddenly opened out. The drive curved upwards, to a plateau where a big house had obviously been. Parts of ruined stone walls, and single tumbled stones, still rose out of the heather, brambles and grass which had moved in to reclaim the site for nature. Butterflies were flitting about the stones, bees hummed, and beyond the ruined house the purple moors rolled away into the distance, a warm blue sky above them. Harry took a deep sniff of the smell of heather, and was more glad than ever that he was not spending the summer in Privet Drive, weeding the Dursleys' suburban garden.  
  
"It's so beautiful here," Hermione said, as she and Ron caught up with Harry and Sirius. "Look at those butterflies."  
  
"This must have been a pretty big house here once," Ron said, bending down to look at a half-buried flight of wide stone steps which must have led up to the front door.  
  
"It was." Sirius met Harry's enquiring glance, and shrugged his thin shoulders. "I suppose I might as well tell you the whole story - it's not really a secret." They made themselves comfortable on some of the flat, mossy stones. The sun was warm on Harry's back, and the buzzing of the bees was soothing. If he hadn't been so interested in listening to Sirius's story, Harry thought he could quite easily drift into a well-fed sleep here.  
  
"This used to be Blackdale House," Sirius began. "Yes - as in Black, my name. My family used to live here. When I was quite small, it was my grandfather's house and I lived in Gatehouse Cottage with my parents. You can imagine that it was a great place to grow up - all this countryside to play in. Anyway, I went to Hogwarts eventually, and met Remus. In our third year, my grandfather died and my father inherited Blackdale House. Remus's family were going through a difficult time then - some of their neighbours had found out about Remus being a werewolf, and they were trying to drive them out of the neighbourhood. My father offered them the chance to rent Gatehouse Cottage. It was great - James and - " Sirius paused, " Peter - used to come in the holidays and we'd spend all day on the moors, talking about what stunts we could pull in the next term at Hogwarts..."   
  
His voice trailed off, and he stared at the distant moors, as though he was seeing something from the past. Harry exchanged glances with Ron and Hermione, but stayed quiet. Blackie was playing in the heather, making little dashes back and forth as she tried to catch butterflies.  
  
"It was about six months before your parents died, Harry," Sirius said at last with an effort. "Neither Remus nor I was here at the time. We were in London, working against Voldemort. And - the Death Eaters paid my family a visit. Remus's parents were in the house too. One of the people in the village sent us an owl. We came up from London and - well - we found there wasn't much left."  
  
There was a long silence, while they all gazed around at the ruined house and tried to imagine the horror of that day.   
  
"Gatehouse Cottage escaped damage," Sirius continued flatly. "but neither Remus nor I could face being here for a long time after that. I spent a lot of time in Godric's Hollow, with your parents, Harry. They did their best to make us feel better, but it only seemed like such a short time after that they were both - " He stopped again. "And after that, I was in Azkaban, so it was a long time before I came back here."  
  
Harry couldn't think of anything to say after hearing this story. Looking at Ron and Hermione, he could tell from their faces that they didn't know what to say either. Sirius saved them from trying. He stood up abruptly.   
  
"Anyway, that's all in the past. Come on, let's walk. Sitting here won't help us to work off all those cakes."  
  
They climbed the hill, spectacular views of moors and dales on both sides of them. As they reached the top, Harry looked back at the ruins of Blackdale House. A cloud covered the sun as he did so, casting a sudden dark shadow on the fallen stones. Something about the scene struck a chord in his memory. That dream he had had last night - the grassy hilltop - the tumbled grey stones - was this the place he had dreamed about? If not, it was very like it. There had been mist, though, and dark figures, and he had lost someone -  
  
"Harry!" Ron's shout broke Harry's reverie. "Come on!"  
  
Harry shook himself, told himself not to be silly, and followed Blackie as she led the way to the top of the hill, where the others were waiting for them.  
  
End of Part 4  
  
Please review!  
Part 5 should be up in the next 3 days, I hope. 


	5. Part 5

Summary: Post-GOF story. Hermione discovers a hidden talent, Ron is bullied into doing housework, and it's time to open the chest in the attic...  
  
Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling. Quotes from her books are used without permission.  
  
Author's Notes: See end. Cliffhanger warning, though.  
  
*****  
  
No Easy Goodbyes - Part 5  
  
When Harry, Hermione and Ron came back from their walk with Sirius, they were all rather silent. After hearing Sirius's story about the murder of his parents - and Lupin's - by the Death Eaters, none of them could think of anything to say. They went into the garden, and Harry remembered his crossbow.   
  
"Look what I got from Hagrid - and Madame Maxime," he said, showing it to his friends.  
  
"Cool!" Ron said enviously. "Can I have a go?"  
  
They spent a happy half-hour practising. Harry didn't like to aim at the apples on the apple-tree after what Remus had said, so Hermione Transfigured some stones into apples, put them in a row on top of the shed roof, and they practiced trying to hit them. Harry took the precaution of moving the sleeping Hedwig to a safe distance, just in case an arrow went astray.   
  
Ron's first attempts with the crossbow were no more accurate than Harry's had been, but both boys had a surprise when Hermione's turn came. With her first shot she buried the arrow cleanly in an apple, knocking it from the shed roof.   
  
"Hey," Ron said, clearly impressed. "Talk about beginners' luck."  
  
Hermione laughed. "Probably a fluke," she said, taking aim again. Her second shot missed an apple by a few millimetres, but she was dead accurate again with her third, fourth and fifth shots. Apples flew in all directions - one rolling off the shed and thudding on the grass five centimetres from Blackie, who jumped in alarm.  
  
"Wow, Hermione!" Harry applauded. "You're a dead shot!"  
  
Hermione blushed and laughed again. "It's so strange. I just took aim and - I don't know, it seems easy."  
  
"Sure you haven't been reading it up - Shooting Skills for Successful Sorcerers, maybe?" Ron teased, pulling a face at her. "No - just kidding!" he added, dodging the crossbow. "How about giving me and Harry some tips, then?"  
  
But Hermione found this hard to do. She helped Harry take aim and advised him on holding the bow, but despite her help he still missed an apple. "I can't explain what I did," she told them at last, sounding rather frustrated. "I suppose it's just something natural - like Harry knowing how to fly a broomstick without being taught."  
  
"Hey, Hagrid'll be impressed when you show him," Ron said. "I wonder where he is now?"  
  
"I suppose he and Madame Maxime went to see the giants, like Dumbledore asked them to," Harry said, as the trio flopped down on the long grass for a rest. "But I don't know where that would be, exactly."  
  
He and Ron both looked at Hermione - the fount of all information - expectantly. No doubt she would have told them all about where giants might be found, but just as she was opening her mouth to reply, Remus came to the kitchen door.  
  
"Anyone want a drink?" he asked.   
  
After their long walk and their shooting practice they were all rather thirsty, so the subject of Hagrid and the giants was forgotten as they went inside for a drink.  
  
"It must be so much nicer for you living here than at your aunt and uncle's house," Hermione said, looking around the kitchen.   
  
"Yeah," Harry agreed, in heartfelt tones. "No Dudley crashing round the place. No Aunt Petunia giving me lists of jobs to do..."  
  
"If you want a job to do," Remus remarked, looking up from the papers he was reading at the kitchen table, "you could get on with tidying the attic - make it a bit more comfortable for yourself. That is, if Ron and Hermione don't mind helping."  
  
Ron and Hermione both seemed quite keen to investigate the attic, and Harry realised he had not shown his friends his new room yet. He took them upstairs, laden with dusters and cloths, and showed them how the wooden ladder pulled down to allow them to climb up into the attic.   
  
"Great room!" Ron enthused, ducking his head to avoid hitting it on the sloping attic ceiling, and making his way to the window to look out at the view.  
  
"I see what Professor Lupin means about it needing tidying," Hermione remarked, running her finger over the top of the chest and looking at the dust which now covered her fingertip. "It looks as though no one's been up here for years."  
  
"I don't think they had," Harry said, watching Blackie making herself comfortable in the centre of his bed, one yellow eye half-open to keep a watch on their movements. "Remus told me he and Sirius and my dad used to hang out up here in their holidays." He paused. "Peter Pettigrew too, I expect."  
  
Hermione looked at Harry sympathetically, but said nothing, before she turned away to survey the room again. "There's a lot of stuff piled up in those boxes."  
  
"Yes." Harry went over to have a closer look. "Remus said some of it probably belonged to them - you know, him, Sirius, my dad - and there's more stuff in that chest, I think. I didn't like to look without asking if it was all right with them."  
  
"Well, why don't you go and ask them now, and we'll get started with the cleaning?" Hermione suggested. "Ron, you can clean the window, and I'll get some of those cobwebs down from the ceiling."  
  
"You sound like Mum," Ron complained. "Clean this, clean that - if I want to do housework I can do that at home - "  
  
Hermione, who was now brandishing a duster, gave him a withering look. "Perhaps you'd rather start with the ceiling, then? There are probably some spiders up on those cobwebs, but if you'd rather - "  
  
"OK, OK, I'll clean the window," Ron said hurriedly, grabbing a cloth and casting a nervous look upwards at the potentially spider-infested ceiling crannies.   
  
Harry grinned as he descended the wooden ladder, listening to his friends still bickering above him. He found Remus still in the kitchen, immersed in the sheaf of papers he had been reading, and looking rather worried. "Er - Remus?"  
  
Remus's expression lightened as he looked up at Harry. "Fed up with cleaning already?"  
  
"Oh no - I wanted to ask you - well, would it be all right if we sorted out some of the things in those boxes - and in the chest, in my room? I know they're probably yours, so we won't touch them if you don't want us to."  
  
The familiar flicker of regret for a time lost passed across Remus's face, before he shrugged. "No, you go ahead and sort it all out. I can't remember what's there, to be honest. You can show us if you find anything really interesting."  
  
"All right. Thanks." Harry hurried back upstairs. He was greeted by clouds of dust and the sound of continued argument between Ron and Hermione.   
  
"Well of course a dry cloth isn't going to clean the window as well as a wet one would, Ron, use your common sense - " Hermione broke off as Harry climbed back into the room. "What did they say?"  
  
"Remus says he doesn't mind us clearing out the boxes, and the chest." Harry coughed. "Maybe we should clean the rest of the room first, though."   
  
Hermione thought this might be sensible, too, so despite Ron's heavy sighs they worked steadily for thirty minutes. By the end of that time, although the room was hardly spotless, it looked much better. All of them were nursing aching arms from their scrubbing and dusting.   
  
"NOW can we look at the interesting stuff?" Ron asked, sitting down heavily on the floor next to the piled-up boxes.  
  
Harry knelt down beside him. "It might not be interesting - Remus said he didn't know what junk was up here."   
  
Ron and Hermione watched curiously as Harry lifted the first box from the pile. It almost fell to pieces in his hands, and spilled a pile of papers over the floor.   
  
"Old copies of the Daily Prophet," said Hermione, picking one up. "Look at the date on this one - that's nearly sixteen years ago. Before we were born."  
  
Ron leaned over her shoulder to read the headline. " 'HAS YOU-KNOW-WHO STRUCK AGAIN? DARK MARK SEEN OVER HOGSMEADE.' "   
  
"I suppose Voldemort was at the height of his powers then," Harry said. He wondered if the fear of Voldemort - now the Dark Lord had returned - would soon be at the same levels it was back then. He did not speak that thought aloud, but he knew both his friends were wondering the same thing.  
  
Hermione was turning the crumbling pages. " 'Auror Moody Loses Eye In Struggle With Death-Eaters,' " she read, fascinated.   
  
Harry lifted the pile of Daily Prophets and pushed them to one side. "I can go through them later," he said. "See if there's anything important." He reached for the next box. It proved to be full of old schoolbooks. Hermione pounced on these.  
  
"Oh look, they were already using 'Intermediate Transfiguration' back then - an earlier edition, though."  
  
"Hermione, you're not in school now," Ron told her.  
  
Harry was looking inside the front covers of the books. "These all have Remus's name in them," he pointed out. "They must have been stashed here since he left Hogwarts." He grinned suddenly as he leafed through a yellowing History of Magic textbook, and nudged Ron. "Look."  
  
Ron grinned too, looking at the page Harry indicated, which was elaborately decorated with doodles of Snitches and broomsticks. "Professor Binns's lessons must have been just as boring then," he said cheerfully.  
  
The rest of the boxes did not prove very interesting, since they only contained more old books, some moth-eaten school robes which smelt unpleasantly damp and musty, and junk of a kind none of them could find fascinating, such as old kitchen pots and pans, and dusty, empty phials which might once have contained potions ingredients for school.   
  
"Not much else here," said Harry, wiping dust from his hands. He scrambled to his feet and turned towards the big wooden chest. "Wonder what's in here, though?"  
  
He took his Sneakoscope and schoolbooks off the top of the chest and laid them on the bed next to Blackie. He didn't say anything, but secretly he was rather disappointed not to have found more traces of his father in the things they had found so far. Perhaps the chest held more interesting memories of the times Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs had spent in this attic?  
  
Ron and Hermione came closer to Harry, leaning in on either side of him to get a better view as he lifted the heavy wooden lid of the chest...  
  
End of Part 5  
  
  
Author's Notes: Sorry about the cliffhanger! I just wanted to get the story so far posted now. Plus, I'm not completely sure about all the things that are going to be in the chest - any ideas?  
  
WeasleyTwinsFan asked if this story tied in with any of my others. The answer is no. It follows on directly from GoF and the rest of the canon. So R & H's relationship is only as JKR left it in GoF.  
  
Sorry this story isn't being posted very quickly. I've been writing the script for a school Christmas play which has taken up a lot of time, plus my Significant Other keeps trying to kick me off the computer, on the flimsy grounds that it's half his! So please bear with me.  
  
P-L-EEE-A-S-E review! I really like reading them, especially constructive criticism or bright ideas about what should happen next. 


	6. Part 6

Author's Notes: I'm so sorry about the cliffhanger at the end of Part 5, and I'm sorry to have taken SO long getting this part up - I've been incredibly busy with Real Life. I was blown away by the number of reviews I got though - thank you *very* much for all the reviews and suggestions! (Can you spot your suggestion in here?)   
Also re. Part 5: Lightning Dancer wins the prize for spotting the mistake - Hermione couldn't have transfigured the apples in Part 5 because she's not allowed to use magic in the holidays! Actually I realized that after I'd already uploaded Part 5...never mind!  
See end for more author's notes.  
  
*****  
  
No Easy Goodbyes - Part 6  
  
The lid of the chest was so heavy that Harry struggled to lift it, and Ron had to lend a hand before they managed to raise it completely and lean it again the wall behind. A cloud of dust flew upwards in its wake, making them all cough again.  
  
Hermione covered her nose. "Urgh, something smells a bit musty in there," she said, leaning away from the chest. "More old robes, maybe."  
  
Harry and Ron did not pay much attention to her complaint. They were too busy peering eagerly into the chest, trying to see what was in there.   
  
"More old Daily Prophets," said Ron disappointedly, lifting the yellowing sheets which covered the chest's contents. They began to crumble away in his grasp, and he dropped them hurriedly in a pile on the floor, wiping his hands. "Yuck."  
  
"It's not full," said Harry, looking into the depths of the chest. "Some more books, I think - what's this?" He pulled out a long woollen strip and showed it to Ron and Hermione. The colours were dimmed by dirt, but it was possible to see what it had once been - a red and gold scarf.  
  
"Gryffindor colours," said Hermione, turning it over in her hands.   
  
"Maybe Professor Lupin used to wave it at Quidditch matches," Ron suggested. This comment reminded all three of them that Harry's father had probably played in those matches. Harry noticed that his two friends exchanged looks and waited to allow him to lift the next item from the chest, realising that this was quite likely to become personal for him.  
  
A few more old school textbooks of Lupin's did not interest them very much, but the last two books did. One was called "The Home Mediwizard - potions and remedies for all ailments." As Harry leafed through, he noticed the page folded over to mark a recipe for a healing balm to cure scratches and cuts. He passed the book to Hermione without comment, thinking of the matter-of-fact way in which Lupin had once described the pain of his transformations to them.  
  
Underneath "The Home Mediwizard" was a magical cookery book, full of recipes.   
  
"I think my mum's got that one," Ron murmured, as Harry opened the book to see a message written in faded ink on the flyleaf in a pretty, rounded script.   
  
"Remus - I'm sending you this in the hope you'll learn to feed yourself a bit better - you're still too thin! No point giving this to James, we both know Hogwarts will fall into the lake before he learns to cook! A very Happy Birthday to you, with love from Lily."  
  
Harry ran his finger over the faded words without speaking. He had never seen his mother's handwriting before. Hermione and Ron looked at him sympathetically, but did not say anything as he laid the book gently beside him on the floor and turned back to the chest.  
  
There was not much else in the chest - a large, dusty leather wallet, a long bundle of fabric which looked like more old robes, and a small wooden box. Harry picked up the leather wallet first, wiping it on his sleeve. When he opened it, he found that it contained an untidy bundle of photographs and a couple of letters. He picked up the letters first. Two were boring business letters from Gringotts, confirming various withdrawals and deposits, but one was a note scrawled in the energetic writing he already knew belonged to Sirius.  
  
"Moony,  
I suppose you and Prongs are laughing yourselves sick about your little exploit last night. Very clever. Ha ha. From now on I'm going to keep my bike AND my leathers AND my boots far away from both of you. The lovely Demetra was NOT impressed, and I'm sure I'll never get another date with her, but I suppose that was your plan, you pair of toads. You will PAY for this, you just wait!  
Your ex-friend, Sirius."   
  
Harry grinned at this, and showed the note to Ron and Hermione.  
  
"Wonder what my dad and Remus did to Sirius?" he said. "I'm going to ask him later."  
  
"Yeah, I'd like to know too," Ron said. "He sounds pretty mad, whatever it was."  
  
Harry turned his attention to the bundle of photographs. He already had an album containing some photographs of his parents, but he was hoping there might be some more of them here. The first picture, however, was a snapshot of Sirius in a sunny garden, leaning against a powerful motorbike. Young, his face unlined and happy, he looked very much as he had in Harry's parents' wedding pictures.  
  
"Wow, look at that bike," Ron said enviously, as Harry gave him the picture. "I'd love to have one like that some day."   
  
"I'm sure it's not strictly allowed, enchanting Muggle motorbikes - it must come under the same laws as flying cars," Hermione murmured, but she said no more, seeing the expressions on the boys' faces.   
  
They were all interested in the next photograph. It was a Quidditch team photo - seven teenagers in Gryffindor team robes, five boys and two girls, posing happily with their arms round each other's shoulders and broomsticks lying on the ground in front of them. Harry recognised his father standing in the middle of the photograph, holding a large silver cup which was unmistakeably the Hogwarts House Quidditch Cup. His face was alight with triumph and his black hair was all on end.   
  
"I didn't know Sirius ever played for Gryffindor as well," Ron said over Harry's shoulder, pointing to the tall dark boy at the left of the picture.   
  
"I suppose I've never asked him about it," Harry said, looking at the rest of the team but not recognising any of them. He knew just how they were feeling though - he remembered his own feeling of triumph when Gryffindor had won the Cup in his third year and Oliver Wood had passed him that self-same cup. He turned the picture over, but there was nothing on the back, not even a date.  
  
All the remaining three photographs did have writing on the back of them, however. The first was a snapshot of Lily, looking about sixteen or seventeen, and another girl with curly dark hair. Lily was holding a black cat in her arms and the other girl was holding a white cat. On the back was written, in a rather loopy ornate hand, "James says this photo is proof pos. that we're just girlies who like fluffy animals - I told him to watch out because we girlies know a few nasty curses too! See you next term. Love, A." Harry wondered who "A" was, as he turned the picture over again to have another look at his mother's face.   
  
The next picture was a group shot, of five people sitting round a table on which drinks and ice-creams were placed. "Looks like Florean Fortescue's - or somewhere very like it," Harry said aloud, looking along the row of faces. James and Lily next to each other, then the dark-haired girl - A - in the middle, with Remus next to her and Sirius beyond him, his long legs stretched out. Sirius was lifting his glass to the photographer, and the others were waving. On the back, in small, rather niggly writing was scribbled, "Thought you might like a copy of this - it came out quite well. See you soon. Peter."  
  
"Pettigrew," Harry murmured, sudden disgust making him unwilling to touch the writing or the photograph. The old familiar anger against the man who had betrayed his parents - betrayed all the friends in that smiling group - was rising up in his throat.   
  
Hermione looked at the photograph. "I suppose he must have taken the picture. That must have been a long time before - you know..." She trailed off. "What's the last one, Harry?" she asked, clearly trying to distract his attention.   
  
Unfortunately, the last photograph did not make Harry feel any better. It clearly dated from a time after his parents and their friends had left Hogwarts, as the two young men in the picture were at least twenty-one. Against a background of tropical palm trees and sandy beach, Sirius, wearing a brightly-coloured shirt and shorts, was holding a cocktail glass. So was his friend, a much shorter, plumper young man, dressed in similar clothes. They both looked as though they were having the time of their lives.  
  
"Is that - " Ron frowned, looking at the picture uncertainly.  
  
"Wormtail again," Harry confirmed heavily. Although the Peter Pettigrew he had met was much older, not to mention balding, this was obviously a younger version of the same man. It made him feel sick to think that Sirius had been so unaware of what was to come, at the time. He turned the picture over to read the last inscription - Sirius's writing this time.  
  
"Moony, you may well be jealous. This place is Paradise, you should have come. Peter and I are having to beat off the gorgeous women with a stick. We'll give you and James the uncensored version when we get back. Cheers, Sirius."  
  
Harry couldn't help smiling at these comments, even though the sight of Pettigrew still made him feel ill.  
  
Hermione stacked the photographs and letters into a neat pile. "Is there anything else in the chest, Harry?" she asked quickly.   
  
"Yeah - a sort of bundle, and a box." Harry reached into the chest, and pulled out the little wooden box. When he shook it, he could hear something heavy rattling inside, but he couldn't open it. "Must be spelled shut."  
  
"We'd better ask Sirius or Professor Lupin to open it," Hermione said, obviously regretting that she wasn't allowed to do magic in the holidays. A simple opening charm would have been easy for her.  
  
Harry gave her the box, and pulled out the long bundle of fabric from the bottom of the chest. "This is heavy."  
  
"These robes stink," Ron complained, as they laid the bundle on the floor and set about unwrapping it. As they untied knots, Harry began to suspect what the object was, and as the fabric fell away he knew his suspicions were correct. It was a broomstick. The long, slim handle was dimmed by age and lack of polishing, and some of the twigs in the tail were worn and broken, but there was still something special about it. Ron and Harry both examined the handle eagerly for a name.  
  
"Silver Arrow II," Harry read. "I've heard of those - didn't Madam Hooch tell us about them once?"  
  
"Yeah, they used to make them even before Cleansweeps and Shooting Stars," Ron answered, stroking the broom's handle reverently. "This is practically an antique. Sylvester Toadflax used to ride one of these when he was Seeker for the 1966 England team that won the World Cup, Harry!"  
  
"I don't know about antique, it just looks old to me," Hermione said, looking over their shoulders. "Do you think it belonged to Professor Lupin?"  
  
"Let's go and ask him," suggested Harry.  
  
"We can ask him about this box, too," Hermione said, rattling the box again as she got off the floor and headed towards the ladder. Ron carried the broomstick, and Harry the bundle of photographs, as they climbed down carefully from the attic and went to look for Remus. They found him in the sitting room, sitting writing at the desk. He smiled as he looked up and saw them.   
  
"Well, I don't know if the attic is any cleaner, but you three certainly aren't. Ron's mother is going to have a fit when she sees the state of him."  
  
"We - er - sorted out the things in the attic," Harry told him, perching on the arm of the sofa, while Ron and Hermione sat in the armchairs.  
  
"We found this Silver Arrow - is it yours?" Ron asked, holding the broomstick towards Remus.  
  
Remus took the broomstick from him and ran his hands over it. He sighed. "I haven't seen this for a while - I'd forgotten it was still up there. Yes, it's mine now, but it used to belong to your father, Harry."  
  
"My father?" Harry looked at the broom with new interest.   
  
"Yes. James used it for most of his time at school. It won many a match with him, I can tell you. Then, in our sixth year, he got himself a Silver Arrow III and he gave this one to me - I had a very old Speedy Six, which we used to joke could be overtaken by a snail." Remus gazed affectionately at the broom, before handing it back to Ron.   
  
"Good lord, isn't that Prongs's old Silver Arrow? I haven't seen that for years." Sirius had come into the room.   
  
"It's been lurking in the attic for years," said Remus. "They found it when they were clearing out."  
  
"What else did you come across?" Sirius asked with interest, leaning on the back of the sofa.  
  
"Um - a lot of old books, and newspapers and stuff," said Hermione.   
  
"And these photos and letters," said Harry, holding them out to Remus, who picked up the Quidditch photograph first.   
  
"See this, Sirius? I remember that day - that was the day the Gryffindor common room caught fire during the celebration party."  
  
"I didn't know you were on the Gryffindor team with my dad," Harry said to Sirius.  
  
"Only for one year," said Sirius, as the photograph was handed on to him. "I was a Beater."  
  
"With a tendency to get carried away," said Remus. "You were supposed to hit the Bludgers with that bat, not the opposition!"  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione all laughed at this, but Remus had turned to the picture of Sirius and Peter Pettigrew on their beach holiday, and his smile had faded already. He passed it wordlessly to Sirius, whose face darkened as he saw it.  
  
Seeing this, Harry tried to divert their thoughts from the friend who had betrayed them. He pointed to the picture of the two girls and their cats. "Who's that girl with my mum? She's in another of the pictures too."  
  
"Hmm? Oh, yes." Remus's expression was curiously blank as he looked at the picture of the two girls. "A friend of your mother's - Alexandra Davies."  
  
"Better known as Alex," said Sirius. "She was a Ravenclaw - good Quidditch Chaser, too."  
  
"We know a boy called Roger Davies," said Hermione. "He was the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain last year. Is he any relation of hers?"  
  
"Er - her nephew, I believe," said Remus, laying the photograph aside. He clearly did not want to discuss Alex Davies any further, and something about his manner stopped Harry and the others from asking more questions. He picked up the motorbike picture and the indignant letter from Sirius instead, and began to laugh. "Oh - Sirius - you must look at this."  
  
Sirius read the letter, looked at his friend and burst into laughter too. "Gods, I'd forgotten about that!"  
  
"What did they do to you?" asked Harry. "Did they do something to your bike?"   
  
"You could say that," said Remus, still chuckling. "Sirius was so proud of that thing - he polished it every day, and he used to go round in these mean black leathers and big black biker boots."  
  
"It came in handy for impressing women," Sirius admitted. "Until your father and Moony here - well - "  
  
"We happened to know that Sirius had a date with a rather beautiful, but rather disdainful girl called Demetra - "  
  
"There was nothing wrong with her," protested Sirius.  
  
"Lily said she looked as though she had a bad smell under her nose - " continued Remus.  
  
"Sounds like Malfoy's mum," Ron muttered to Harry.   
  
" - So James and I decided to play a little trick on Sirius. We timed our intervention rather well - "  
  
"With the result that, just as I was using my best chat-up lines on Demetra, my bike turned bright pink, my leathers started to smell of very old cheese, and - "  
  
"And his biker boots turned into fluffy bunny slippers," gasped Remus, who was almost laughing too much at the memory to speak clearly. Harry, Ron and Hermione were giggling too. "James and I saw it all from a safe distance..."  
  
"It took me quite a while to see the funny side of it," Sirius admitted.   
  
"She wasn't your type, Padfoot, trust me."  
  
"Did you ever get your own back on them?" Harry grinned.  
  
"Yes I did - but I'm not sure that story's suitable for someone of your tender age," Sirius said.   
  
"Oh dear, I haven't laughed that much in ages," Remus said, wiping his eyes and shuffling the photos into a pile. "I'm glad you found these, Harry - we should remember the fun we had then, even though terrible things happened later."  
  
"There must be lots of other funny stories about my mum and dad I don't know," Harry said, rather wistfully.  
  
"We'll try to think of a few to tell you while you're here," Sirius promised. "Anyone ready for a snack?"  
  
Harry and Ron were, but Hermione had remembered the box she still held. "We found this too, but it's spelled shut. Do you know what's in it?"  
  
Sirius took the box from her. "Something else I haven't seen in years," he said thoughtfully. "I wondered where this had got to."   
  
Lupin's wand was lying on the desk. He got up and passed the wand over the box in Sirius's hands. "Alohomora!"   
  
There was a soft click, and Sirius lifted the wooden lid. The only thing in the box was a large silver key, rather tarnished. Sirius stroked it with his long fingers. "This hasn't been used in a while."   
  
"What does it open?" Harry asked, and saw his godfather and Remus exchange glances.  
  
"I'm not sure we should tell you," said Remus. "You three seem to get into enough trouble without it."   
  
Harry and Ron both opened their mouths to protest at this, but were cut off by the clock in the kitchen striking loudly. "Is it that time already?" Remus said hastily. "We'd better have a quick snack, and then Ron and Hermione will have to be on their way, I'm afraid. I promised Mrs. Weasley they'd be back by dark."  
  
Harry looked at his two friends regretfully. "Do they have to go?"  
  
"Sorry, Harry. I'd ask them to stay for longer than a day, but there just isn't enough room here," Remus said apologetically.   
  
"That's OK, it was great of you to ask them here for my birthday," Harry said quickly, disappointed but not wanting to seem ungrateful.   
  
"Anyway, my dad's coming to pick me up from The Burrow tomorrow morning," Hermione explained. "I'm staying there tonight and sharing Ginny's room."  
  
"We could meet up in Diagon Alley if we all get our school stuff on the same day," Ron suggested, as they all moved into the kitchen.   
  
"That's a good idea - I can easily arrange that with Mrs. Weasley," Remus said.   
  
After a quick supper, Harry had to say goodbye to his friends as they left by Floo Powder. Ron went first, saying "Bye Harry - see you in Diagon Alley!" as he stepped into the fire.   
  
Hermione hugged Harry again as she turned to leave. "Be careful, Harry," she said, rather seriously. "See you later." Then she, too, had gone on her way to The Burrow.   
  
Gatehouse Cottage seemed very quiet after Ron and Hermione had gone. Harry wandered out into the darkening garden and decided he would do some more crossbow practice tomorrow, in an effort to become as good a shot as Hermione. Hedwig landed on his shoulder and nibbled his ear affectionately for a moment, before she swooped off to do some hunting. A rustling noise in the bushes, accompanied by the faint tinkle of a collar-tag, suggested that Blackie was also thinking of a night's hunting.  
  
"Cheer up, Harry," a voice said behind him, and he turned to see Sirius's dark figure silhouetted in the lighted kitchen doorway. "You'll see them again soon. Sorry Remus and I aren't very lively company - "  
  
"No, it's great here - I mean, I like being with you both," Harry said earnestly. "Really. And I'll like hearing you tell me stories about my mum and dad." He and Sirius seated themselves on the step and watched the white form of Hedwig swooping to and fro across the garden.  
  
"Sirius," Harry began carefully, after a minute's silence, "what happened to Alex Davies - my mum's friend? Is she dead too? Only Remus didn't seem to want to talk about her - "  
  
"No, he wouldn't," Sirius said. "She's not dead - it's not much of a story really, but I'll tell you anyway."  
  
"Don't tell me if you don't want to -" Harry began hastily.  
  
"No, it's all right. Probably better that you know. She was a nice girl - a friend of all of ours, at Hogwarts. She had a bit of a soft spot for old Moony though, especially as we got older, and he was quite keen on her. Around the time your parents got married, a lot of people thought Remus and Alex would get married too, but he broke it off, and she was so hurt and angry that she never really had much to do with any of us again - I think she still kept in touch with Lily, but then after your parents died..." Sirius paused for a moment. "I've no idea where she is now. Married with kids, I should think - her children might be at Hogwarts with you."  
  
"Why did Remus break it off?" Harry asked, rather embarrassed but still curious to know. "Was it - because of the werewolf thing?"  
  
"Yes, of course it was. She didn't know - he'd never got up the courage to tell her because he thought she'd run away screaming - and he didn't think he could expect any girl to want to marry a werewolf and have his children. He was probably right - but - "  
  
"It's horrible for him," Harry said sadly. "Thanks for telling me. At least now I can try not to put my foot in it by talking about her."  
  
"Anyway, that was a long time ago," Sirius said, in a lighter tone. "Let's change the subject. Remus says you can keep the photos of your parents. You can keep James's broom, too."  
  
"Can I?" Harry was delighted. "That'd be great. I haven't really got anything that belonged to him, except my Invisibility Cloak."   
  
There was a rustle, a thud and a mew as Blackie suddenly appeared from a bush and leapt on to Harry's knee. She settled herself down there, kneading his lap with her claws until he winced. "Tell me a story about my dad, then," Harry said.  
  
"Well," began Sirius, "there was the time that we decided to liven up our Herbology class. The Herbology professor at the time had been trying to grow Bog Barnacles, and James thought it would be interesting if..."  
  
Harry listened, Blackie purred, and night fell over the garden at Gatehouse Cottage.  
  
End of Part 6  
  
Author's Notes: There, no cliffhanger this time. This story is flowing very slowly but I promise I'll finish it eventually, as I hate abandoning things unfinished. What does the key unlock? Will Alex Davies reappear? Will Harry go to Diagon Alley? You all know that R and H will be back...I'll try and get Part 7 up by next weekend. Promise!  
  
Here's another plug for the people at www.sugarquill.com - go there if you want to visit The Good Ship R/H! 


	7. Part 7

Author's Notes: Part 6 was quite light-hearted, Part 7 is a bit more ominous...   
  
*****  
  
No Easy Goodbyes - Part 7  
  
Harry woke slowly, trying to remember the fragments of his dream. He knew he had had the same dream before - the grassy hilltop with the grey stones - the dark figures in the mist - the sense of having lost someone - but the dream always seemed to evaporate before he could recall it properly, and it would get mixed up in his head with memories of climbing over the ruins of Blackdale House on a summer's day.   
  
Something soft brushed his chin, and he blinked his eyes open to find Blackie batting her paws against his face, her usual morning greeting. The sun was streaming through the now-clean attic window, and it looked like another warm sunny day.  
  
Harry stroked Blackie's furry black head, and rolled on to his back again, letting himself savour - as he did every morning - the knowledge of being Dursley-free all summer and staying with Remus and Sirius. It had been several weeks now since his birthday, and he found it hard to believe how quickly the time had slipped past. He had spent a lot of time in the open air, exploring the local countryside, practising with his crossbow, going for long walks with Remus or Sirius, and even taking a few cookery lessons. He had visited the village several times with Mrs. Figg, carrying her basket for her and waiting patiently while she shopped. He had even managed to get his homework done, and found some fascinating books on Remus's shelves he was sure Hermione would love to read. He had listened avidly to Remus and Sirius's stories about their schooldays with his parents, and also - without Remus or Sirius's knowledge - he had learned some nasty little hexes from Mundungus he was longing to try out on Malfoy and his cronies next term.   
  
The threat from Voldemort had not gone away, of course. It was always there in the background. It was the reason why Harry always took his wand with him when he went out on those long rambles, and it was the reason why Remus, Sirius, Mundungus and Mrs. Figg took turns to stay awake during the night and keep watch around the cottage. Harry knew that Remus was constantly in touch with Professor Dumbledore, Mr. Weasley and other wizards who were actively planning a defence against Voldemort. Remus spent much time writing letters, and he and Sirius both spent a good deal of time going through old spellbooks in the hope of discovering useful strategies to use. On a few occasions, Remus and Mundungus had gone away to meet other members of the magical community. They never told Harry exactly where they were going, or who they were going to meet, and he knew better than to ask. It was enough for him to know that they all trusted him, and would not treat him like a helpless child if a sudden danger did come.   
  
He had not asked questions, either, when Remus had disappeared for the two days around the full moon, returning looking tired and ill. There was no need for questions.  
  
Harry wondered how Ron and Hermione's holidays had compared with his own. He had exchanged quite a few letters with both of them, and they both seemed to have been having fun. Ron had gone camping for a few days with the twins, despite Mrs. Weasley's misgivings at this scheme, and they had all survived the experience. Hermione had visited Austria with her parents, and from what she said in her letters, she seemed to have enjoyed herself.   
  
Today, however, was the day Harry would be seeing them both again, he hoped. They had arranged to meet up in Diagon Alley to get their school things. Harry's letter from Hogwarts, with his list of school requirements, had arrived a few days ago. Remus was going to accompany him to Diagon Alley. Harry knew that - with Voldemort rising and gathering his supporters - Remus and Sirius would feel happier if one of them was with him for the trip to London. Harry regretted that Sirius could not come with him, but Sirius was still a wanted man, a fugitive, unjust though it was.   
  
"Harry! Are you ever getting up this morning?" Sirius's voice demanded at that moment, from the foot of the attic ladder. "Breakfast's waiting for you, and Remus seems quite keen to get going."  
  
"I'm just coming!" Harry called back, shifting Blackie so that he could get out of bed, and reaching for his glasses. On his way to the ladder, he patted the two broomsticks which stood propped together in the corner - his Firebolt and his father's Silver Arrow.   
  
*****  
  
"Right, we must be off," Remus said, as they finished clearing the breakfast table. "I'm not sure what time we'll be back, Sirius, but definitely before dark."  
  
"We'll keep an eye out here, don't worry. Don't forget to give those documents to Arthur Weasley."  
  
"I won't."  
  
"Don't forget my shopping, Harry," Mrs. Figg was saying, as she pressed her list of potions ingredients into Harry's hand. "I just can't get these things in Frittleton. And make sure the domino beetles are REALLY finely crushed - the last lot I had was full of great big lumps - no use at all."  
  
"Let him be, Arabella," said Sirius, sounding slightly exasperated, "or they won't even get to Diagon Alley before it's time to come back. Give my regards to Ron and Hermione, Harry."  
  
"I will." Harry shouldered his empty bag and followed Remus to the fireplace, where a blazing fire had been conjured up minutes earlier. Blackie followed him, purring and staying close to his ankles.  
  
"You can't come with me, Blackie - you wouldn't like the journey. Stay with Sirius."  
  
"Oh, lucky Sirius," said Sirius ruefully, as Blackie growled deep in her throat, and gave him a nasty look. She seemed to understand Harry's order though, as she sat down reluctantly, no longer trying to follow him.  
  
Remus took the bowl of Floo Powder from the mantelpiece. "The Leaky Cauldron!" he said loudly, before he stepped into the flames and vanished. Seconds later, Harry followed him.  
  
Harry had never really grown to enjoy travelling by Floo Powder, and he didn't think he ever would. His glasses safely in his pocket, he had his eyes tightly shut for the whole duration of the journey, as he whizzed along, the smell of smoke in his nostrils. When he was finally spat out, coughing and sooty, on the hearth of the Leaky Cauldron, he was thoroughly glad to have arrived safely. Remus was standing waiting for him, smiling quietly.  
  
"You might want to wipe the smuts off your face before we do our shopping, Harry," he said. "Hullo, Tom."  
  
The landlord of the Leaky Cauldron nodded at him - he was an old acquaintance of Lupin's - and grinned at Harry when he saw him. "Back again? Time goes quickly, don't it?"  
  
In a few minutes, Harry and Remus were walking down Diagon Alley, which was just as bustling as usual, although not quite as noisy. The atmosphere was a little subdued, and Harry wondered if he was imagining that many of the adults were looking slightly worried or tense. As they passed Florean Fortescue's, a small girl asked her mother if she could have an ice-cream, and her mother snatched her away crossly. "Not today. Let's get home as quickly as we can."  
  
Remus had noticed the tension in the atmosphere too; Harry knew that when Remus said "Let's get a Daily Prophet - find out if anything's happened."   
  
The headlines in the Daily Prophet made the reason for the subdued atmosphere quite clear.   
  
"MUGGLES ATTACKED IN WALES - DARK MARK SEEN AGAIN!"  
  
Harry and Remus sat down at a table in front of Florean Fortescue's to read the Prophet together. Florean greeted them and brought them drinks, but even he was not quite his usual cheery self.  
  
'Ministry Wizards have been sent to Wales to investigate an attack on a party of Muggle students who were hiking in Snowdonia," Harry read. "Two students were killed and three others appear to have been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse. A Ministry spokesman confirmed that several hours of work had taken place to make the attack seem like a climbing accident for the benefit of local Muggles. Several witnesses have insisted that they saw the Dark Mark over the scene of the attack. This is the third sighting of the Dark Mark in recent weeks, and has led to more rumours that You-Know-Who is regaining power or that his old supporters have joined together to attack Muggles. Minister Fudge has consistently denied these rumours, but the Daily Prophet has learned that Albus Dumbledore is said to have alerted several well-known members of the wizarding community to the possible danger of attacks on the wizarding public. Minister Fudge's spokesperson said today, "The Ministry believes that these attacks are the work of isolated former supporters of You-Know-Who. We believe that our efforts will soon lead to the apprehension of these people, and that the wizarding public should not be unduly alarmed." Despite these reassurances, several important Ministry officials are known to be lobbying the Minister to take firm action to stamp out the threat of further attacks. Readers will remember the public alarm which followed the unfortunate events surrounding the appearance of the Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup last year.'  
  
Harry let out a long sigh as he finished reading the article, and exchanged worried looks with Remus. "It must be the Death Eaters, like the ones I saw at Mrs. Figg's house - people like Lucius Malfoy, going out and doing Voldemort's dirty work!"  
  
"Ssh," Remus cautioned him. "Not so loud. You and I both know what Lucius Malfoy is, but we can't prove it, so don't go shouting about it in public."  
  
Reluctantly, Harry lowered his voice, aware that he had already attracted a few curious looks from people nearby who probably recognised him. "I suppose it amuses them to go out and attack a few Muggles for practice," he muttered.  
  
"I'll have to contact Dumbledore again as soon as we get home," Remus said, folding the Prophet quickly and putting it in the pocket of his shabby robes. "But let's get our shopping done, now we're here. We're supposed to be meeting the Weasleys at half past ten, don't forget."  
  
"And I want to go to Gringotts first to get some money," Harry said, feeling for his money bag.  
  
Gringotts was not too busy that morning, so it did not take Harry long to visit his vault and get out as much money as he thought he would need for the new term. As he was coming out of the bank to find Remus again, he ran into Parvati and Padma Patil, who were climbing the steps, accompanied by their mother and a boy of about eleven.   
  
"Hi, Harry!" Parvati greeted him sunnily. After the fiasco of the Yule Ball last year, she had treated him rather coolly for a while, but that had more or less worn off in the following months. "Had a good summer?"  
  
"Yes thanks. Hi Padma." Harry nodded to Parvati's twin, who was talking to her mother.  
  
"This is our brother, Prashant," Parvati said, indicating the boy next to her. "He's starting at Hogwarts this term. This is Harry Potter, Prash - I've told you about him."  
  
Prashant, who was small but wiry-looking, grinned at Harry, but didn't say anything more than, "Hi."  
  
"He's mad about Quidditch," Parvati said, looking fondly at her brother. "Oh well, we'd better get on. We've got to go and get Prash's wand after Gringotts."  
  
"Bye, Parvati. Bye, Padma!" Harry called after the Patil family, as they disappeared into the bank. Looking at the astronomy watch Sirius had given him, he realised it was almost time to go and find the Weasleys - he had better find Remus first.   
  
It was not hard for Harry and Remus to find the Weasley family outside Quality Quidditch Supplies. He could see Ron's red head some way off, tallest in the group, which consisted on this occasion of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, Ron and Ginny. All the Weasleys waved when they saw Harry and Remus approaching. "Hiya, Harry! Had a good time?" Ron asked, as his mother hugged Harry.   
  
"Great, thanks." Harry nodded to the twins. He wanted to ask them how their inventions for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes were coming along, but this did not seem the best time to do so, with Mrs. Weasley standing there.  
  
"Seen this, eh, Harry?" Fred said, jerking his head towards the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies. "New make of Quidditch balls - supposed to be more streamlined, the Quaffle's quicker through the air."   
  
"Wait till you see *our* new Quidditch balls," George muttered in Harry's ear. "The Quaffle explodes when it goes through the goal, and it's full of lemonade - we thought we might give Angelica, Alicia and Katie a shock at team practice one night!"  
  
Harry grinned at this, but turned as he heard Ron saying impatiently, "*There* you are! Where have you been?" Hermione had just arrived, rather out of breath.  
  
"My parents couldn't find anywhere to park in Muggle London," she explained, pulling a face at Ron and greeting Mr. and Mrs. Weasley more politely. "They're going to pick me up again at three-thirty."   
  
"Go on then - break the news to Harry," Ron said to Hermione, meaningly. "Let him get over the shock."  
  
"News?" Harry looked curiously at Hermione, who blushed, rather to his surprise.  
  
"Don't tease her, Ron," Mrs. Weasley said firmly. "Your parents must be proud, Hermione - I know I was when Bill and Percy got their Prefects' badges - "  
  
"You're a Prefect?" Harry said to Hermione, who looked rather embarrassed. "Congratulations, though I'm not surprised, really."  
  
"Well, hardly," Ron said, grinning at her. "It was bound to happen."   
  
"You never know, Harry, I wouldn't be at all surprised if Professor Dumbledore made you a Prefect in sixth year," Mrs. Weasley said to him, obviously thinking he might be disappointed to have been passed over. "That's when Arthur got his badge." Privately, Harry was deciding that he would only like to be a Prefect if Ron was one too.   
  
"Congratulations, Hermione," Remus said, smiling at her, before he turned to Mr. Weasley. "Arthur - any chance of a quiet word?"  
  
Mr. Weasley, who was looking even more worried and harrassed than usual, nodded quickly. "Yes, let's go to the Leaky Cauldron. Molly - I'll come and find you later, is that all right?"  
  
The group split up, having arranged to meet later on. Mrs. Weasley dragged the twins into Madame Malkin's shop to have their school robes altered. "It's not worth getting you new ones for your last year, but you must have the hems taken down, they're not decent -"  
  
Remus and Mr. Weasley hurried off in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were left standing by Quality Quidditch Supplies. They were just deciding where to go first when a very unwelcome voice spoke just beside them.  
  
"Well well, if it isn't Potty, Weasel and the Mudblood - and the Weasel's little sister - how nice." Draco Malfoy was regarding them with his usual sneer, and sketched a mock bow to Ginny, who reddened and retreated behind Hermione, scowling.  
  
"Shut up, Malfoy," Ron said automatically. "And how was your summer - lousy, I hope?"  
  
"Very interesting, actually," Malfoy said. "A lot of important business to deal with. My father's a very busy man."  
  
"Yeah, and we know what your father's business is - going round attacking Muggles!" Harry blurted out angrily. Hermione nudged him hard in the side, and Harry saw Lucius Malfoy coming out of a nearby shop.   
  
Draco opened his mouth to retort, but shut it again when he saw his father. Mr. Malfoy's eyes swept coldly over Harry and his friends, and Harry shivered as a sudden memory swept over him of the night when he had been circled by Death Eaters, who had watched him drag Cedric's body away - he knew all too well that Lucius Malfoy had been one of that hooded group. For a moment, he thought Mr. Malfoy was going to speak to them, but he merely gave them that long, cold look, before saying, "Come, Draco." Father and son turned and walked away.   
  
Ron waited till the Malfoys were a few feet ahead, then very deliberately spat on the ground where they had stood. He exchanged looks with Harry, but neither of them said anything. There was nothing useful to say.  
  
"Well, I want to get some treats for Crookshanks," Hermione announced, clearly trying to divert everyone's attention from the Malfoys. "Anyone want to come to the Magical Menagerie?"  
  
"Oh, they've got some adorable owl chicks in the window," Ginny told her, brightening. "I saw them when we went past before."  
  
"You go and drool over them, then," Ron said, rather scathingly, "and we'll go to the apothecary's. I need some potions ingredients."  
  
"Me too," Harry said, remembering his errands. "And I've got to get some stuff for Mrs. Figg."  
  
The apothecary's shop, as usual, was dark and very smelly. Harry and Ron skirted the barrels on the floor, ducked the bundles of feathers and strings of fangs which hung from the ceiling, and looked curiously at the jars which lined the walls. Ron recoiled as he sniffed a jar of thick lumpy pink paste. "Eeewww, that's disgusting."  
  
"Can I help you?" The man who usually stood behind the apothecary's counter was not there today. The person who had spoken was a dark-haired woman with a pleasant smile. Harry smiled back as he handed her Mrs. Figg's list.   
  
"Can I have all the things on here, please - oh, and can you make sure the domino beetles are very finely crushed, she said."   
  
"No problem. Take a seat." The woman busied herself finding the ingredients and decanting them into small paper bags and tiny glass phials. "Going back to Hogwarts?" she asked cheerfully, watching Harry and Ron examining the things which stood on the counter.   
  
"Yes - fifth year," Harry told her, watching her crush tiny beetles with a pestle and mortar. There was something about the woman that seemed vaguely familiar. It was hot in the apothecary's shop, and he brushed his fringe away from his sweaty forehead, and saw the woman's eyes widen with sudden recognition as she saw his scar. He was used to being recognised by now, and often people said, "Oh - you're Harry Potter!" This woman, however, said nothing, until she had finished weighing out all Mrs. Figg's ingredients, and Harry was finding the right money in his money-bag.  
  
"So - you're Harry Potter," she remarked quietly, as she took the coins from him.   
  
"Yes," Harry agreed, stepping to one side to let Ron put his choice of potions ingredients on the counter.  
  
"You look like your father," the woman said.   
  
"I know. Did you know my father?"  
  
"Yes, at Hogwarts, and your mother." She gave Harry another friendly look as she counted out Ron's change. She had rather nice, though slightly wistful, brown eyes, and her face was still quite pretty, although there was a worry-line between her brows and a few grey hairs by her left temple. Harry knew he had never met her before, but he still felt that there was something familiar about her. Perhaps she was related to someone he knew, at Hogwarts? He would have liked to have stayed longer to talk to her, but Ron was waiting for him.  
  
"Come on, Harry, Hermione's outside with Ginny. We've got to get our books next."  
  
"Coming." Harry picked up his shopping. "Thanks," he said to the woman behind the counter.  
  
"You're welcome. Have a good term."   
  
When Harry joined the others outside the apothecary's shop, he turned back to look as they moved away. The woman with the wistful brown eyes was still watching him through the window.  
  
End of Part 7.  
  
Please review, hopefully Part 8 will be up in a few more days. Thanks to those who reviewed Part 6, I really appreciate your comments. 


	8. Part 8

*

*****

Part Eight

*****

Blackie did not seem to like King's Cross Station very much. Harry had been worried that she might panic and run away because of the crowds and the noise, but she merely stuck close to his feet and picked her way delicately across the concourse, an expression of utter disgust on her black furry face. Harry kept casting anxious glances towards her, while trying to balance his trunk on the trolley and keep Hedwig's cage steady on top at the same time. 

As he followed the Weasley entourage towards Platform 9¾, Harry thought about his departure from Gatehouse Cottage the previous day. It had been a wrench to pack up his trunk and leave his attic bedroom - it almost felt like home, now, and he had never truly felt that way about anywhere except Hogwarts before. Saying goodbye to Remus, Sirius and his other friends there had been worse, although they had all tried to be cheerful. Remus had explained to Harry that he could not take him to King's Cross, much as he would have liked to see him on to the train. Too many students would recognise their ex-Professor, and his appearance there would cause too much comment. Remus, deeply involved in Dumbledore's plans to resist Voldemort, was trying to keep a low profile, and didn't want the wizarding community discussing his movements. Harry could understand this. Instead, Remus had arranged with the Weasleys for Harry to go to the Burrow by Floo Powder the day before term started. He had spent a sociable evening there, shared Ron's bedroom and caught up on all the Weasley news, before joining them the next morning in their journey to King's Cross.

"Harry! Are you ready?" Mrs. Weasley was waving at him. Harry woke from his reverie and realised he had fallen behind the group. Fred, George and Ginny had already disappeared through the barrier, and Ron was waiting with his mother, looking a trifle impatient. Mr. Weasley had been called to the Ministry early that morning, and had been unable to accompany them to the station. Harry had been well aware of the anxious looks Mr. Weasley had given him during his short stay at The Burrow. He hoped that all the adults at Hogwarts were not going to dog him with the same protectiveness after what had happened the previous term, or his activities would be severely curtailed...

"Sorry - I'm just coming." Harry joined Ron and Mrs. Weasley, making sure that Blackie was still by his side, and together they went quickly through the barrier, glancing around first to make sure no Muggle eyes were paying them close attention. On the other side of the barrier, the Hogwarts Express waited in a cloud of steam, and the platform was the usual noisy chaos of wizards, witches, luggage and animals, with a particularly rowdy group centred around the Weasley twins. Harry's heart lifted a little at the familiar sights and sounds. 

"Hermione!" Ron was waving across the platform to where Hermione was standing, clutching a disgruntled-looking Crookshanks in her arms and talking to Neville Longbottom and his grandmother. Talking to Neville's grandmother must have been quite heavy going, Harry thought, because Hermione's face brightened as she saw Harry and Ron, and she excused herself immediately to hurry towards them. As she reached them, Harry noticed the small silver badge which glittered on her robes, and remembered that Hermione was a Prefect now. 

"You got here at last!" 

Harry was just about to open his mouth to reply when there was a strange hissing noise next to his ankles, and a louder one from Hermione's arms. Blackie and Crookshanks had spotted each other. 

"Uh-oh," said Ron. "Watch out, Hermione, don't let your cat eat Harry's or there'll be trouble."

Hermione frowned at him. "Don't be silly, Crookshanks wouldn't do that. He's just curious." She knelt down and held Crookshanks out towards Blackie, keeping a firm grip on him. "We should introduce them. Look, Crookshanks, this is Blackie."

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, but refrained from saying anything. Harry bent down to stroke Blackie's head reassuringly. She was now eyeball-to-eyeball with Crookshanks, and Harry could have sworn that some sort of wordless cat conversation was in progress. He wondered who would end up as the boss cat in Gryffindor Tower - since both Crookshanks and Blackie seemed to like getting their own way. 

A strange, loud rumbling noise now came to Harry's ears. "What's that?" Ron asked, startled. 

Hermione stood up, beaming and stroking Crookshanks. "They're purring at each other," she said with satisfaction.

And, much to Harry's surprise and relief, it was so.

Mrs. Weasley hurried over to them at that moment. "Come on dears, you'd better hurry up, you haven't put your luggage on the train yet and it's going in a few minutes."

"You don't have to travel with the other Prefects or anything, do you, Hermione?" Harry asked her as they moved off, remembering how Percy Weasley had liked to remind them of a prefect's importance.

"Don't be silly, I'm coming with you two, of course," said Hermione. A moment later, however, she stopped with such suddenness that Ron crashed into her.

"Look where you're going, Hermione -"

Hermione was looking rather guilty. "I'd almost forgotten - I'm supposed to be seeing if any of the first-years need help getting on the train." She looked appealingly from Ron to her luggage. "Ron - could you possibly -?" 

"Oh, give it here," Ron said, in slightly exasperated tones, as he dragged her trunk towards him. "We'll put your stuff on the train, you come and find us when you've finished mopping up the first-years' tears." 

"Thanks!" Hermione said gratefully, and disappeared into the throng of Hogwarts pupils. Harry grinned at Ron, and together they towed Hermione's luggage, and their own, towards the compartment where Ginny was waving at them.

Five minutes later, as a breathless Hermione sat down in their compartment and the Hogwarts Express shunted noisily out of Platform 9¾, Harry waved to Mrs. Weasley's diminishing figure and remembered the first time he had made this journey. How strange everything had felt to him then, and how familiar it seemed now. He could hardly believe that he was beginning his fifth year at Hogwarts. Two years from now, he realised, he would be making this journey for the last time.

"Harry! Wake up!" Ron was sounding exasperated again. "That's the third time I've yelled your name. D'you want to play Exploding Snap?"

*****

"I saw Fred and George on the platform," Hermione remarked several hours later, as the compartment door closed behind the witch who sold sweets and snacks from a trolley. "They looked as cheerful as ever."

"Mum gave them a right going-over this morning, didn't she, Harry?" said Ron. "She was reminding them they've got NEWTs this year, you know how she goes on -" Ron did a fair imitation of Mrs. Weasley's voice. "_Your whole future depends on your results - you can't afford to laze about this year- NEWTs are very difficult you know!_" 

Ginny laughed.

"Well, she's right, I suppose," Hermione said seriously, ignoring Ron's disbelieving snort. "They've only got one more year left. Are they still planning to open their joke shop?"

"Of course they are - and Mum knows that perfectly well - I think she and Dad are pretty much resigned to it, actually, so I don't know why she bothered giving them her usual ear-bashing. What difference will it make how many NEWTs they get?"

"They'll probably make a fortune, and you'll all live in luxury thanks to the _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes_ empire," grinned Harry, and then wished he had not mentioned money. Ron was very sensitive about being poor. To his relief, Ron grinned back. 

"That'd be good, wouldn't it? Mum would have to take back everything she's ever said about their jokes."

"Fred and George are taking Apparation lessons this year as well," Ginny put in, stroking Blackie, who was stretched out comfortably on the seat next to her, purring. "Professor McGonagall teaches that."

"Yeah." Ron looked envious. "Lucky gits. Wish I was learning to Apparate. Another whole two years until -" 

He broke off, as the compartment door opened again, and three of their fellow fifth-year Gryffindors entered - Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. There was a chorus of greetings, and they all squeezed up to let the three boys sit down. As Neville sat down between Ginny and Harry, however, there was a horrible squalling, spitting noise, and he leapt up again, looking terrified and clutching the seat of his robes.

"_Wh _- what was that?"

"You sat on Blackie," said Harry, hastily gathering up his outraged cat and trying to soothe her. She moved on to his lap, but kept up a scolding hiss, fixing her yellow eyes on Neville with a most unfriendly look. There was a growling sound from Hermione's corner as Crookshanks made noises of support. 

"Is that your cat, Harry?" Seamus asked. "Looks a bit fierce, doesn't it?" He eyed Blackie doubtfully. 

Hermione and Ginny soothed Neville, hiding their smiles, while Ron spluttered with amusement. Harry explained to the other Gryffindors that he had been given Blackie in the holidays - but did not, of course, tell them exactly what had happened on the night Blackie had adopted him. Blackie seemed to make Neville, Dean and Seamus rather nervous, and they did not stay long. 

The rest of the journey passed very uneventfully. As the Hogwarts Express steamed into Hogsmeade station, Harry realised that they had not even had a visit from his least favourite Slytherin, Draco Malfoy. Perhaps Malfoy had been rendered more cautious by the severe hexing he had received on the train journey home from Hogwarts last term, though Harry doubted it. Malfoy had been just as unpleasant as ever when they had met him in Diagon Alley. As it happened, Harry had barely stepped on to the darkened platform at Hogsmeade, following behind Ron and Hermione, when his old enemy's supercilious tones reached his ears.

"Good lord, Crabbe, will you look at that? They've given the Mudblood a Prefect's badge - just goes to show Dumbledore'll let _any_ riff-raff lord it around Hogwarts these days."

Draco Malfoy was standing a few feet away, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle as usual, and looking down his nose at the silver badge on Hermione's school robes. 

Ron bristled immediately, and Harry saw Hermione put a quick restraining hand on Ron's sleeve. "Better hurry up, Malfoy, or all the best carriages will be gone," she said coolly, nodding to where a line of magical carriages waited to take them to Hogwarts. "We can't have a Malfoy riding in just _any _old carriage, can we?"

Harry smiled at this, but Ron was still scowling at Malfoy. Malfoy would probably have thought of something else nasty to say to Hermione, but at that moment they all saw the giant figure of Hagrid approaching them with a lantern in his hand, and Harry and his friends forgot Malfoy in their eagerness to greet Hagrid, who had obviously returned from his mysterious summer mission.

"Firs'-years this way! Firs'-years over here!" Hagrid bellowed, before catching sight of them. "Harry! An' Ron, an' Hermione! How're you?"

"Fine thanks, Hagrid," Harry said. "Thanks for the crossbow, it's great. You got back, then."

"Ssh!" Hagrid, frowning, put a massive finger to his lips, glancing around. "Can't talk here - come and see me tomorrow, all right?" Harry nodded, as Hagrid looked at Hermione. "Prefect, eh, Hermione? Always knew you would be! Congratulations!" 

Harry, slinging his cloak over his shoulders, moved off towards the line of carriages, Blackie at his heels and his friends following.

*****

The enchanted sky in the Great Hall was a cloudless black, dotted with silver stars, and the tables were lit as usual by hundreds of candles floating overhead.

"Quidditch is back on this term!" Fred Weasley informed Harry joyfully, as he sat down opposite Harry at the Gryffindor table. "Just asked McGonagall, and she told us."

"We'll have to find a new Keeper," his twin George added, sitting down beside Fred. "You should try out, Ron. You never know, you might get in."

Ron's ears turned a deep red at this comment, and he stared hard at his plate. "Yeah, why not?" Fred said. "After all, what could be better than a Quidditch team with two Weasleys?"

"A Quidditch team with three Weasleys!" the twins chorused together, grinning. 

Hermione slid into the seat Ron and Harry had saved her between them. She had been helping to marshal the first-years into a line for the Sorting ceremony. Angelina Johnson, the tallest seventh-year girl and a Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, joined the table at the same time. She was also wearing a new Prefect's badge, Harry noticed. 

"Hiya," Angelina nodded to the Gryffindors she had not seen yet. "Have you seen who's sitting on the Staff table next to Professor Flitwick?"

"No - who?" asked Hermione, as Harry and Ron both turned to crane their necks towards the long table where the teachers were sitting. Harry noticed that Professor Snape was in his usual seat, wearing his usual sour expression. Then he noticed the slim girl who was sitting next to Professor Flitwick, brushing aside a sheet of silvery-fair hair as she chatted to the smiling Charms professor. 

"Fleur Delacour?" Harry said. "What's she doing here?" 

"She's working here, apparently," Angelina told him. "She's left Beauxbatons now, of course. I heard that she's going to be an assistant to Professor McGonagall - a sort of trainee teacher."

"She _said _she wanted to improve her English," Ron remembered, gazing rather fixedly at the beautiful French girl. 

Hermione sniffed. "I suppose Professor McGonagall _is _very busy now," she said. "Pass the water jug, please."

Harry found himself unable to look at Fleur without being reminded of the Triwizard Tournament and its' tragic consequences. He thought he would like to talk to her some time, though - he and Fleur had become quite friendly by the end of the Beauxbatons' students' stay at Hogwarts. Thinking of Fleur reminded him of the other foreign champion - 

"So, had any letters from Viktor Krum lately, Hermione?" Fred asked mischievously. 

Hermione coloured up, and Ron's ears turned slightly pink again. "Um -" Hermione began, but was interrupted by the sound of the great doors opening. Silence fell, as Professor McGonagall led in the line of first-years to be Sorted, and Hermione's face had a chance to cool as they all turned to watch the ceremony.

The Sorting ceremony was another thing that seemed reassuringly familiar, Harry mused as he watched. This year's new pupils looked just as terrified as they tried on the Sorting Hat as he had himself, four years ago. 

Only a few first-years had been Sorted, and Harry and his friends were still clapping the first new Gryffindor, when they heard Professor McGonagall call a name which caught their attention.

__

"Crabbe, Raymond!" 

"Did she say _Crabbe_?" asked Ron, in horrified tones, as a large first-year with a strangely familiar flat nose and pudding-basin haircut shuffled towards the stool and the Sorting Hat. "Please. Tell me it isn't - "

"I think it is, you know," said Harry, nodding towards the Slytherin table. Two seconds after touching Raymond Crabbe's head, the Sorting Hat shrieked "SLYTHERIN!" and Harry saw Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle burst into applause. 

"I didn't know Crabbe _had _a younger brother," Hermione said, over the noise from the Slytherin table.

"Amazing," said Ron, shaking his head. "His parents saw what Crabbe was like, and yet they still wanted another one?"

The rest of the Sorting passed fairly quickly, but there was another name which interested Harry and his friends.

__

"Patil, Prashant!" 

Harry saw the small, wiry boy he had met in Diagon Alley making his way quickly towards Professor McGonagall.

"Oh, that's Parvati's brother," Hermione said with interest. "She's got a picture of him in our dormitory. He looks quite nice, doesn't he?"

"I met him in Diagon Alley," Harry told them. "Parvati says he's mad keen on Quidditch."

"Let's hope he's a Gryffindor, then," said Fred. 

"GRYFFINDOR!" They all joined in the applause as Prashant hurried towards their table, where a beaming Parvati was beckoning him to an empty seat. Harry looked across to the Ravenclaw table and saw Padma Patil clapping too. Near Padma, he caught sight of Cho Chang, looking sad-faced and rather thinner than last term, and Harry felt his stomach sink. Last year, he had not been able to look at Cho without a stab of admiration - but that had been before she became Cedric's girlfriend - and before Cedric's death - now, the very sight of her made the burden of guilt settle on him again. If he had not insisted that Cedric take the Triwizard Cup with him -

Thoughts of the Triwizard Tournament - dark thoughts - filled Harry's mind again, and when he roused himself from them the Sorting ceremony was finished and the usual sumptuous feast was filling the table with food and the air with succulent smells.

*****

"I've thought of a good name for Crabbe Minor," Ron said cheerfully, as he and Harry unpacked their trunks in their dormitory. "How about Repulsive Raymond?" 

"Mm?" Harry was still pre-occupied. He was looking at the two brooms which lay in the bottom of his trunk - his own Firebolt and his dad's old Silver Arrow. It felt good to have a few more mementoes of his parents with him. He pulled out the photographs of them that he had found at Gatehouse Cottage, and took a quick look at the picture of his mother and her friend Alex. Something about that picture was nagging at him... As Harry thrust it back into the trunk, something hard knocked against his knuckles, and he uncovered the wooden box which held the heavy silver key. Much to Harry's frustration, neither Remus nor Sirius had been persuaded to tell him what the key opened, but Harry had brought it to school anyway.

"Harry, what did Professor Dumbledore say the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was called?" Seamus asked, looking up from his own unpacking. 

"Um - can't remember," Harry confessed, having spent most of the feast and Dumbledore's welcome speech thinking about Voldemort and the events of the Triwizard Tournament. "I just remember him saying something about her not being able to get here tonight, but arriving tomorrow."

"Oh yeah, that's right, it's a woman, isn't it?" said Dean. "Hope she's a good teacher. And not as mad as Moody!"

"Stoddard," said Ron. "That's her name. Professor Stoddard."

Harry pushed thoughts of the false Professor Moody out of his mind, and said quickly, "Oh yeah. I remember now. Well, we'll just have to wait and see."

"You finished yet, Harry?" asked Ron, slamming down the lid of his trunk.

"Not quite," said Harry. "You go down, I'll come in a minute. See if Hermione will play chess with you."

Ron made a face. "You don't think she'll have rushed off to the library by now, desperate to start working for the OWLs? Ah well, I'll go and see." He went out of the dormitory, and Harry hurried to complete his unpacking. It was hard to put anything down on his bed because Blackie had taken possession of it, making herself very comfortable and purring like a rusty barrel-organ. She clearly planned to be the queen of this dormitory. Judging from the occasional glare she was giving Neville, Harry didn't think she had forgiven Neville for sitting on her on the train. 

Neville, who was glancing nervously at Blackie in return, seemed rather subdued as he unpacked beside his own bed. Harry wondered if Neville had paid a visit to his parents during the summer holidays. It was terrible to think that they were both insane in St. Mungo's Hospital, thanks to Voldemort's Death Eaters, and did not even recognise their son. Harry felt a wave of sympathy for Neville flowing through him, and made a mental note to have more chats with Neville this term, when he got the opportunity. Now was not a good time, though - not with Dean and Seamus still unpacking and Neville still jumpy at the sight of Blackie.

It did feel good to be back in Gryffindor Tower, though. A homecoming, of sorts. 

Harry sighed, closed the lid of his trunk, and went downstairs to find Ron and Hermione.

*****


	9. Part 9

Summary: Term starts at Hogwarts, Harry has yet another strange dream, and some familiar faces reappear…

Summary: Term starts at Hogwarts, Harry has yet another strange dream, and some familiar faces reappear…

Author's Notes: Surprised to see this part up so quickly? I am!

*****

__

Part Nine

*****

__

Harry walked down an echoing corridor. He did not know this part of the castle, but Hogwarts was so vast that even now, after four years, he still stumbled on passageways he had never traversed before. It was quiet up here - so quiet that he could hear his feet, padding over an ancient, worn carpet patterned with faded leaves and flowers. 

All the heavy oak doors he passed were closed, and he did not know what lay behind them. Now and again he passed more of the statues and paintings with which the corridors of Hogwarts were lined. In the quiet of this remote passageway, the subjects of the paintings were all dozing, and none stirred to watch him pass.

Harry paused beside a statue of a muscular wizard on a broom, dressed in what looked like a striped Quidditch robe. Carved in stone, the wizard was forever frozen on the point of throwing the Quaffle which rested in his outstretched hand. 

Harry put out his hand to touch the stone Quaffle. Gripping it, he pulled - and it lifted out of the socket, leaving the statue's hand empty…but revealing a keyhole in the palm.

Setting down the stone Quaffle, Harry reached into the pocket of his robe, feeling for the heavy silver key he knew would fit the lock and reveal the secret guarded by the statue…

It was at that moment that Ron threw a pillow at him, and Harry awoke with a start, gasping for breath. The pillow had hit him squarely in the face. 

"Uh? Wha-?" he mumbled, pushing it away. His start had awoken Blackie, who was curled around his feet, and she complained with a loud mew of protest before settling herself back to sleep.

"Come on, Harry, I'm starving," Ron said. He was sitting half-dressed on the side of his bed, pulling on his socks, which had been darned by Mrs. Weasley in the holidays. "Breakfast."

Harry pulled himself into a sitting position, picked up the pillow and threw it half-heartedly back at Ron. His mind was still too much full of his interrupted dream to concentrate on wreaking vengeance. The pillow fell short and landed on the floor.

"Pathetic," said Ron. "Lucky you're not a Chaser - you'd never score with a shot like that."

"Shut up," Harry said amiably, groping for his glasses. Putting them on, he saw Dean getting dressed at the far end of the dormitory, also looking rather bleary. The off-key singing and splashing behind the bathroom door was Seamus. The curtains were still pulled around Neville's bed. He had never been good at getting up in the mornings.

"I just had a really weird dream," Harry said, climbing out of bed. "About seeing a statue of a Quidditch player…" His voice trailed off as he wondered about his dream. For the last few weeks he had been haunted by dreams about that grassy hillside, the grey stones so like the ruins of Blackdale House; but this dream seemed to have a completely different significance. He looked towards his trunk, in which the little wooden box containing the mysterious key still lay hidden.

"Yeah?" Ron sounded mildly interested. "Was it a Cannons player?"

"No, he had a stripy robe," Harry said, trying to stop an enormous yawn, but failing. 

"Must have been a Wimborne Wasps player," Ron mused, giving his hair a perfunctory brushing. "Hope it wasn't Bagman." 

"Caerphilly Catapults play in stripes too," said Seamus, passing the end of Harry's bed on his way back from the bathroom. 

"Yeah - which way did the stripes go, Harry?"

Ron and Seamus kept up a gentle wrangle about Quidditch teams while they got ready to go down to breakfast. Harry, still wondering about the dream, the statue and the key, did not say much. He thought he might tell Ron and Hermione about it later, when they were alone. 

When Ron and Harry arrived at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, they found Hermione already there, studying their new timetable and talking to Ginny. Ginny was looking rather depressed, which was explained when she told them she had just found out she had double Potions with Snape as her first lesson.

"What have we got first?" Harry asked Hermione, as he reached for the milk to pour on his porridge. The house elves were a lot better at porridge-making than Mrs. Figg was, although he would miss Sirius's fry-ups. 

"Well, as it happens, we've got a free lesson this morning," Hermione told him, looking down at the timetable again. "It's supposed to be Defence Against the Dark Arts, but Professor McGonagall told me that Professor Stoddard still isn't here, so we've got nothing until History of Magic at half-past ten."

"Huh." Ron took a slice of bread from the plate that Ginny had just pushed towards him. "If I'd known that I'd have stayed in bed for another hour."

"I might go and see Dobby then," Harry said, as Hermione shot Ron a disapproving look. "I've got a present for him."

"I wonder how Winky's doing?" Hermione said, her attention diverted. "She was so upset at the end of last term - when she found out about - " Hermione's voice trailed off. Harry realised that she did not want to mention Barty Crouch, the Death-Eater son of Winky the house-elf's old master, who had so nearly killed Harry last term. Most of the Hogwarts students still did not know that their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher last year had not been Alastor Moody, but Barty Crouch posing as Moody by using Polyjuice Potion.

"Hermione, _please_ don't start up all that Spew stuff again this year," Ron begged. "You'll make us so unpopular with the house-elves, they'll never let us in the kitchen again."

Harry suppressed a grin - and saw Ginny doing the same - as Hermione replied with great dignity. "As it happens, Ron, I don't think I will have much time for S.P.E.W. this year - what with my prefect duties, and working for OWLs. But I _haven't_ stopped believing in the rights of house-elves, you know - well, not just house-elves, but all other non-human magic users - "

"Yes, yes, all right," Ron interrupted her, "just as long as you're not going to go around sticking badges on people, you can believe what you like - "

"So," Harry said rather loudly, cutting off what threatened to be one of the term's first arguments between Ron and Hermione, "does anyone want to come and see Dobby with me? And how about visiting Hagrid this afternoon, if we can?"

*****

Harry and Ron ended up visiting the kitchen after breakfast without Hermione, who had decided that it was her duty as a Prefect to make sure that the new first-years all found the correct classroom for their first lesson. Harry remembered how often he had got lost during his own first few weeks in the maze that was Hogwarts. Privately, he thought that Hermione was probably nervous of visiting the kitchen, since on her last visit she had been so outspoken in her views on elf-rights that the scandalised elves had practically thrown them out. Harry was none too sure of the welcome he and Ron would get from the house-elves, under the circumstances.

House-elves, however, obviously had short memories - either that, or they did not hold Harry or Ron responsible for Hermione's peculiar views. Harry and Ron had barely set foot in the kitchen when they were warmly greeted by the elves, who were washing-up after breakfast. 

"_Harry Potter, sir!"_ There was a shrill shriek of ecstasy from Dobby, who hurtled towards Harry wearing a delighted expression on his face, his bat-like ears waving. "Harry Potter is coming to visit Dobby on the very first morning of term! Dobby is honoured - "

"Um," Harry said uncomfortably, trying to stop these embarrassing effusions of delight. Beside him, Ron was grinning broadly. "I just came to see how you were, Dobby."

"Dobby is very fine," Dobby assured him, waving Harry and Ron to two chairs. "Thanking you kindly for asking." Dobby certainly looked well, although his maroon sweater - a gift from Ron last Christmas - clashed rather distressingly with his orange shorts and his socks - one mustard yellow, one violet. 

Despite having just finished breakfast, Harry and Ron found themselves able to manage the tray of tea and biscuits the house-elves pressed upon them. 

"How's Winky?" Harry asked Dobby, through a mouthful of biscuit crumbs. "Is she all right?" The last time he had seen Winky, she had been distraught over learning of her master's murder by his own son. Even before that, she had been unhappy over being freed by her old master. Dobby was the only elf Harry had ever met who had welcomed the idea of freedom.

Dobby nodded. "Winky is getting better, Harry Potter. Professor Dumbledore is helping her. She is being very upset when she is finding out about her old master, sir, but now that her old family is all gone, she is deciding that working here is not so bad, sir. Professor Dumbledore is making her his personal elf, sir, and she is working very hard looking after him."

"She's a bit like my mum, really," Ron said unexpectedly. "Needs someone to look after, I mean. Dad says Mum drives him mad when we're all at school. She spends all her time running round after him and Percy, fussing about them because she hasn't got anyone else to look after."

Harry thought about this, and decided it might be true. Personally he had rather enjoyed having Mrs. Weasley fussing over him on the occasions when he had visited The Burrow, but then he had been so little fussed over in his life that the novelty had not had a chance to wear off. He was glad, though, to hear that Winky was recovering from her traumatic parting with the Crouch family.

Harry handed over the present he had bought for Dobby in Diagon Alley during the summer holidays. _Quality Quidditch Supplies _now sold child-sized scarves for young Quidditch supporters, and Harry had thought Dobby might like to add a scarf to his wardrobe for the winter term. The shop had been selling scarves for all the different league teams, but Harry had bought an orange Chudley Cannons one, knowing that Ron would be outraged if he bought any other. 

While Dobby was still exclaiming over the scarf, and thanking Harry with tears of gratitude, an idea occurred to Harry. "Dobby," he said, "do you know if there are any statues of Quidditch players in the castle?" 

Ron looked at him in surprise. "Eh?"

"That dream I told you about," Harry explained. "I was walking along a corridor in Hogwarts and I saw a statue of a Quidditch player throwing a Quaffle. I just wondered if it was a real statue I dreamed about."

Ron rolled his eyes, but Dobby, after thinking hard for a moment, nodded his head vigorously. "Yes sir, there is a statue like the one Harry Potter is asking about. Dobby is thinking it is on the fifth floor. Dobby will check." Dobby darted away to consult with a couple of the other house-elves, who paused in their work to discuss the matter with him earnestly. A few seconds later, Dobby returned, triumphant.

"Dobby is right, sirs!" he shrilled, pleased with himself. "The other elves, they is knowing the statue Harry Potter means too."

As he tried to memorise the directions Dobby was giving them, _"Up the stairs by the Arithmancy classroom, third on the left, then fourth on the right, then -"_ Harry felt a rush of excitement at the news that the statue he had dreamed of might really exist. And if the statue existed, if the keyhole existed, what might he find if he tried that mysterious silver key in the lock?

When Harry and Ron managed to tear themselves away from the kitchen and Dobby's attentions, Harry knew there was no chance of exploring that fifth-floor corridor immediately. They were due in their History of Magic lesson soon, and in any case he wanted to tell Hermione about the statue first. It would be unfair to go in search of the secret keyhole without her.

*****

Professor Binns, their ghostly History of Magic teacher, was the same as ever; and his first lesson of the term was just as tedious as usual. Shortly before the end of the lesson, however, the Gryffindor fifth-years were roused from a stupor of boredom by an announcement he made. Apparently, during the term, they were expected to research a large History of Magic project for homework, which would count towards their OWLs. The project was to be about a period of magical history of their choice, and it was to be handed in before Christmas. When Professor Binns told them how long he expected their finished project to be, Harry heard Ron muffle a groan beside him. 

"It'll take hours and hours!" he mouthed at Harry, looking horrified.

"Weeks and weeks, you mean," Harry muttered back, not feeling happy about it himself. He had guessed that their workload would increase in this OWLs year, but it was starting to look as if he was not going to have much free time, what with homework and Quidditch practice. He hoped they would not get so much work in all their other classes. 

"As this is quite a substantial piece of work, you will be allowed to work with a partner," Professor Binns continued in his reedy voice. "You will be awarded a joint mark. Naturally, I expect each partner to do their fair share of the work…You must give me the name of your partner and the title of your project at the next lesson."

Ron brightened at this news, and Harry wondered why, until they were outside the History of Magic classroom.

"Hermione," Ron said, using what he obviously thought were his most persuasive tones, "would you be my partner for this project?" 

"_No_," said Hermione firmly, as they began to walk along the corridor.

"Why not?" asked Ron, looking slightly hurt.

"Because," said Hermione astutely, "you only want to work with me because you know I'll do loads of work for this project, and you want to take it easy."

Ron had the grace to look slightly ashamed, but persisted, "Oh, come on, Hermione - you haven't _got _a partner yet, have you?"

"I was going to ask Neville," Hermione told them. Harry wasn't surprised at this. Hermione often helped Neville with his work anyway, and it was like her to offer to work with him on this project. A thought occurred to Harry. Working together on this project might be the opportunity he had been looking for to have a few private conversations with Neville. 

"Actually, Hermione," he said, "_I'd _quite like to work with Neville. Would you mind?"

Ron and Hermione both stared at Harry in surprise, but then Hermione shrugged.

"No, I suppose not. You ask him then, Harry."

Ron saw his chance. "_Now_ will you work with me, Hermione?"

Hermione gave in. "All _right_. But you have to do half the work - you heard what Professor Binns said."

Ron agreed meekly, but said cheerfully to Harry when Hermione was out of earshot, "She'll probably give me a hard time, but we're bound to get really good marks for the project with Hermione working on it, so it'll be worth it." Harry grinned, and went off to find Neville, who agreed at once to work with him.

*****

When the first day's lessons were over, and they had had dinner in the Great Hall, Harry suggested a stroll across the grounds towards Hagrid's cabin. Hermione said doubtfully that she had been about to go to the library, Harry and Ron groaned at this, and insisted that she should come out and get some exercise before burying herself in the library for the rest of the term. Harry knew that Hermione was just as keen to see Hagrid as they were, so he was not surprised that she agreed to come without too much more persuasion.

Harry, Ron and Hermione strolled down the main steps of the castle at a leisurely pace. Summer was still lingering around the Hogwarts grounds; the stone steps were warm from the sun, and the grass was dry and browned. Groups of students were dotted around the lake, making the most of the evening sunshine, and catching up on holiday gossip. 

As they walked, not hurrying, Harry thought how far away the threat of Voldemort's return seemed on such an evening, and listened to Hermione talking about the Transfiguration class they had had that afternoon. "It sounded really interesting, what Professor McGonagall was telling us about human transfiguration. I can't wait to have a go at it - "

Harry stumbled in surprise, as something twined itself around his ankles and nearly tripped him up. He managed to save himself by clutching at Ron. Looking down, he saw Blackie rubbing herself fondly against his legs, while Crookshanks followed her across the grass at a slow, majestic pace. 

"Blackie!" Harry said, stroking her head affectionately. "How did you find us?"

"She must be as clever as Crookshanks," Hermione said, greeting her own pet. "She probably missed you while you were in class all day." 

Blackie and Crookshanks certainly seemed determined to add themselves to the party, and they all walked on together to Hagrid's cabin, where smoke was curling out of the chimney and Fang was snoozing in the pumpkin patch. Fang opened one eye as they approached, then bounded to his feet and greeted them joyfully. One warning hiss from Crookshanks, however, kept the huge hound at a respectful distance from the two cats.

Hagrid pulled open the door of his cabin, alerted by Fang's barks. "Harry! Ron! Hermione! Good ter see yeh!"

Hagrid, who loved virtually all creatures, was delighted to be introduced to Blackie and to renew his acquaintance with Crookshanks. The two cats curled up in front of Hagrid's fireplace, having rejected the bed, which smelt of Fang and was covered in dog-hairs. Hagrid poured them all mugs of tea, and listened eagerly as Harry told him all about his summer at Gatehouse Cottage. When Hermione asked Hagrid about his summer mission for Professor Dumbledore, however, Hagrid turned suddenly evasive.

"Can't tell yeh much abou' it," he muttered, looking shiftily from side to side. "Dumbledore's orders."

"But you did go with Madame Maxime, didn't you?" Harry asked. "You sent me that crossbow as a present from both of you."

Hagrid blushed all over his enormous face. "I went with Olympe, yeah. Secret, though. Not s'posed ter talk abou' it ter you lot." And, although Harry, Ron and Hermione tried to get more information out of him, Hagrid remained resolutely silent on that subject. 

"Have you heard from Madame Maxime lately?" Hermione asked at last. "Since you got back, I mean."

Hagrid blushed again. "Yeah, might'er done. Had a letter yesterday, as a matter o' fact. She's back at Beauxbatons now, o' course." He narrowed his beetle-black eyes at Hermione and his face broke into a sudden grin. "So, had any letters from tha' Viktor Krum, Hermione?"

It was Hermione's turn to look embarrassed. "He's written to me a few times, yes," she said quickly. Ron frowned, and Harry hastened to change the subject. From what Hermione had told them on the train to school, Harry knew that she had not visited Viktor Krum in the holidays, partly because he was too busy playing Quidditch and partly because Hermione's parents had not liked the idea. Hermione had told Harry and Ron that Krum had now left Durmstrang, his wizarding school, and had been signed up to play professionally for the Vratsa Vultures, Bulgaria's top Quidditch team. They had not discussed him at much length, however, as Ron was still a little touchy on the subject of Krum, who had accompanied Hermione to the Yule Ball last year.

Carrying the rock cakes they had been too polite to refuse, but too wise to eat, Harry and his friends waved Hagrid goodbye and began to walk back to the school, just as it began to grow dark. The two cats followed behind them.

They were about halfway across the grass towards the castle when Blackie began to behave in a peculiar way. Giving a sudden fierce hiss, she stiffened, and her black fur stood on end. A low growling noise came from her throat as she glared at a nearby clump of bushes. 

"What's up, Blackie?" Harry asked, surprised. 

Ron pulled his wand from his pocket. "Something nasty in the bushes?" he suggested, advancing towards them. 

"Be careful," Hermione warned, glancing anxiously at Crookshanks, who was also glaring at the clump with his lamp-like eyes. 

"Anyone there?" Harry said, peering into the bush. He was sure he had just heard a rustling noise. "Come out, if you're there!"

"Or we'll hex you," Ron added encouragingly.

There was a louder rustle, and Harry and Ron exchanged puzzled glances as an unfamiliar voice said, "All _right_, I'm coming out!" It was a boy's voice, and it sounded sulky.

A stocky figure emerged from the bushes, twigs in his hair and chocolate smeared around his mouth. It was Raymond Crabbe, Crabbe's younger brother, and from the look of him he had been having a private feast of sweets. His pockets were bulging, and so were his chubby cheeks. Harry was suddenly and irresistibly reminded of his cousin Dudley.

"What on earth were you doing in there?" Hermione asked, although it was fairly obvious.

The younger Crabbe glowered at her. "Mind your own business."

"Don't speak to her like that, she's a Prefect," Ron said sharply. "Trust a Crabbe to be stuffing his face."

"Ron," Hermione said warningly. She turned to Raymond Crabbe, obviously trying to be fair to a new student. "Look - Raymond, isn't it? - it's getting dark. You should be getting back to your common room now." 

"Will if I want to," Raymond muttered rudely, before he turned abruptly and shuffled away into the twilight, sweet wrappers crackling in his pockets.

"What a chip off the old block," Ron said sarcastically. "Crabbe must be _so _proud."

Harry remembered that he had not told Hermione about his mysterious dream yet. As they walked back to the castle, he told Ron and Hermione everything that had happened in the dream, and reminded them about the key they had found in Lupin's trunk. 

"It _could _be just a co-incidence that there's a statue at Hogwarts that's like the one in your dream," Hermione said, when Harry had finished talking. 

"Yeah, but what if there really is a keyhole - we've got to go and have a look, haven't we?" Ron said eagerly. "It'd be weird if your dreams were predicting stuff, wouldn't it, Harry? Trelawney'd love it!"

Harry thought about the other dream he had had that summer - the strange misty hilltop, and the dark figures. He had not mentioned that dream to his friends, and something stopped him from doing so now. He was quite ready, however, to agree with Ron that they should investigate the Quidditch-player statue. "We could go and look for it now."

"No, we can't," Hermione said firmly. "We've got Transfiguration homework to do - and anyway, we'll have to be careful when we _do_ go to find this statue, in case anyone wonders why we're sneaking about up there - "

"Oh, _Hermione_ - "

"Well, don't forget I'm a Prefect, Ron, I have to be careful - "

"How about tomorrow night?" Harry suggested, and by the time they arrived at the castle entrance, even Hermione was ready to go looking for the mysterious statue the next evening. 

Back in Gryffindor Tower, Harry was further cheered up to hear from Fred Weasley that Professor McGonagall had called a meeting of the Quidditch team before breakfast next day. 

"She wants to sort out a new captain and arrange for trials to find a new keeper," Fred told them, as they settled down in chairs in the common room. 

"Great," said Harry, who had missed playing Quidditch the previous year, and was looking forward to playing for Gryffindor once more. 

"Professor Stoddard's coming tomorrow," Lavender Brown told them, leaning across a table towards Hermione. 

"Oh good, we won't miss any more Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons," said Hermione. "I hope she's a good teacher."

"She's a widow," Parvati told them. Parvati generally managed to get hold of all the gossip. "She's going to live in Hogsmeade and only come to school every morning, because of her children." 

"Aren't her children coming to Hogwarts, then?" Harry asked, wondering, not for the first time, how Parvati managed to get her information. It was unusual for Hogwarts teachers not to live in the castle during term-time, but, he reflected, perhaps Professor Dumbledore had found it so hard to get hold of a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher that he had been prepared to agree to any conditions. There was a rumour that the job was jinxed. 

"No, they're too young," Parvati said importantly. "One's about nine and one's seven, I think." 

This was all the gossip that Parvati had managed to find out about their new Professor, so the conversation turned to other topics. Hermione dragged a protesting Ron off to discuss the title of their History of Magic project, and Harry settled down to his Transfiguration homework, looking forward to the thought of playing Quidditch again very soon, and the prospect of looking for the statue which might or might not contain the mysterious keyhole.

*****

__

Part 10 up in another week, hopefully. Please review!


	10. Part 10

Summary: The new Quidditch captain is chosen, Prashant makes his mark, and Harry investigates the mysterious statue… __

Summary: The new Quidditch captain is chosen, Prashant makes his mark, and Harry investigates the mysterious statue…

*****

__

Part Ten

*****

Harry half-expected to dream about the statue again, but if he had any dreams that night he did not remember them. He woke early the next morning, since he had to attend the Quidditch team meeting before breakfast; and dressed quietly, trying not to wake Ron or the others in his dormitory, who were still sound asleep.

When Harry reached the Gryffindor common room, he found the Weasley twins waiting for him, both looking tousled and rather sleepy. "There you are!" said Fred. "Come on, we've got to go to McGonagall's office. The girls went ahead." 

Climbing through the portrait hole, Harry, Fred and George made their way through the corridors of the castle, which were quiet with an early-morning stillness. It was going to be another warm day, Harry thought, looking out of a window at the early sun shining on the lake, and Hagrid crossing the grass with a bundle of wood under his arm and Fang at his heels. 

Professor McGonagall had Summoned some extra chairs into her small office, which made the room extremely squashed. The other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team - Angelina and her friends, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell - were already there, holding mugs of tea and managing to look slightly more awake than the twins. As Harry sat down, Angelina grinned at him and passed him a mug and the sugar bowl.

"Ah, good, you're all here," Professor McGonagall said. "Shut the door please, Weasley." As George obeyed, Professor McGonagall surveyed them all sternly over her square spectacles and began, "As you know, there was no House Quidditch competition last year because of the Triwizard Tournament." 

Harry could almost feel the rest of the team trying very hard not to look at him. He kept his own eyes fixed on Professor McGonagall.

"However," Professor McGonagall continued firmly, "I am sure you will also remember that we are the current holders of the Quidditch Cup, and I am determined - _determined_ - that we will retain our trophy this year."

The team nodded in agreement.

"Don't worry, Professor," Fred said airily, "you can count on us."

He received a glare. "I am sure I _hope_ so, Weasley. Now, since Oliver Wood's departure, we have been without a Captain or a Keeper. I have my own ideas on who would be suitable for these posts, but I am sure you will wish to offer suggestions."

There was a pause, while the Gryffindors exchanged glances. Harry smiled to himself as he wondered what Fred or George would be like as a Quidditch captain - team practices would certainly be interesting! He thought for a moment, then raised his hand.

"Yes, Potter?"

"I think Angelina would be a good captain," Harry said, and felt himself redden slightly with embarrassment.

"Thanks, Harry," Angelina said, giving him a quick smile. "It's nice of you to say so, but I'm not sure I'd do such a good job, not with my Prefect duties and all the work I've got to do for NEWTs as well."

At the mention of NEWTs, there was a murmur of agreement from Alicia and Katie, who were also seventh-years and taking those dreaded exams this year. Fred and George looked less concerned about their NEWTs, but nodded also to keep Professor McGonagall happy.

"A fair point, Miss Johnson," Professor McGonagall said. "Does anyone else have anything to say?"

"Yes," said Alicia unexpectedly. "I think Harry should be the captain."

To Harry's amazement, there were loud agreeing noises from around the room, as various people nodded. Harry nearly dropped his tea-mug as he stared at them. "But - but I'm only a fifth-year - you're all in seventh-year - " 

"So?" said Fred, grinning at his surprised face. "Wood was captain when _he_ was a fifth-year. Come to that, _Charlie_ was captain when _he _was a fifth-year -"

"And I know you've got OWLs this year, but they're not as much work as the NEWTs are," Angelina said. "I'm sure you could do it, and we'll back you up, Harry."

"Besides, once you've learnt the job you'll be ready to break in the new team next year, when we've all left," Katie Bell pointed out. 

Professor McGonagall rapped on her desk to silence them all. "Very well. It seems most of us are in agreement. Those in favour of Potter being appointed captain?"

Every member of the team, except Harry, raised a hand.

"And would you be willing, Potter, to do the job?"

"Um - y-yes," stammered Harry, still staggered. 

"Then that's settled," said Professor McGonagall briskly. "Now, with regard to finding a new Keeper, I suggest that we invite interested members of the House to try out tomorrow evening with the rest of the team. I will reserve the Quidditch pitch, and you, Potter, should put up a notice in the Gryffindor common room. Is that satisfactory?"

Everyone nodded, and Professor McGonagall looked at her watch. "Well, off you go, then, it will be breakfast time very shortly. Potter, stay behind, please - I want a word with you." 

Smiling and giving Harry "thumbs-up" signs, the rest of the Gryffindor team filed out of the small office, leaving Harry with Professor McGonagall. Harry was still breathless with astonishment. He had dreamed of being Quidditch captain one day, of course, but had never expected it to happen so soon. His elation was mingled with trepidation as he hoped he would be up to the job, with the alarmingly tireless example of Oliver Wood before him.

"Congratulations, Potter," Professor McGonagall said dryly, and Harry was surprised to see that she was smiling at him. "I trust you won't be letting your new responsibilities interfere with your school work."

"No, Professor," Harry said hastily.

"Good." Professor McGonagall opened the top drawer of her desk, and took out a narrow gold armband. Harry recognised it as the Quidditch captain's armband Wood had worn during matches, with a small scarlet Gryffindor lion prancing across the gold background. Professor McGonagall passed it across to him, and he took it reverently, gazing at it before putting it in his pocket. "Well, Potter, make sure you do a good job - we want to keep that Cup! And don't forget to write that notice about tomorrow. You may go to breakfast now."

Harry walked out of her office in a daze - and was almost knocked flying across the corridor as he received an enormous thump on the back. Fred and George had been waiting for him.

"Congratu_lations_, Harry, old boy!" Fred bellowed, as Harry dodged another congratulatory bang on the back. "How does it feel to be the new Oliver Wood?"

"Great," said Harry, unable to stop himself grinning. "I still don't know why you wanted me, though, I mean, I'm the youngest - and you've all been on the team longer - "

"Ah, but we recognised in you a keen tactical brain," George teased him, ruffling his hair. "We will hang on your every word of wisdom, won't we, Fred?"

"Yep," said Fred. "And you will unfold to us your master plan for thrashing the Slytherins."

"All right," Harry said, still grinning. "As soon as I think of one, I'll let you know!"

*****

Harry had a moment of anxiety as he went to find Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table. He was remembering how furious Ron had been last year, when Harry had been chosen as a Triwizard champion. Hermione had tried to explain Ron's feelings of jealousy to Harry then - "_I know you don't ask for the attention…but…Ron's got all those brothers to compete against at home, and you're his best friend, and you're really famous - he's always shunted to one side…I suppose this is just one time too many…"_ - but Harry and Ron had not spoken to each other for days, and it had been a time Harry never wanted to repeat. He and Ron had made it up long since, of course, and their friendship had become stronger than ever, but Harry hoped that Ron would not mind that this was yet another occasion when Harry had been singled out to do something important.

Harry's arrival at the breakfast table caused quite a stir. To his dismay, Fred and George insisted on escorting him to his seat, chanting, "Hail to the chief, make way for the master strategist!" Angelina, Alicia and Katie had already arrived at the Gryffindor table and had obviously been spreading the news, because there was a smattering of applause among the Gryffindors already having breakfast as Harry came in. The disturbance was loud enough to make the students at the other House tables turn their heads to see what was going on. 

"Did we miss something?" asked Hermione, as she and Ron arrived, a few moments later, just as Seamus and Dean were congratulating Harry. 

"Um - Er -" said Harry, looking at Ron in embarrassment, not quite sure how to break the news.

"Meet the new Gryffindor Quidditch captain," Fred said, before Harry could say any more himself. "Harry's going to make sure we keep the Cup this year."

"_Harry!_ Are you really the new captain?" Hermione asked, staring at him in surprise. "That's wonderful!"

Harry looked rather nervously at Ron, but found his friend smiling broadly at him. Hugely relieved, he heard Ron say, "I'm not surprised really, I guessed it might be on the cards from what Fred and George said in the holidays. Well done, mate."

"I never thought they'd pick me," Harry murmured to Ron, as they sat down beside each other. 

Ron grinned sideways at him. "Don't be daft. Just make sure we beat Slytherin by a few hundred points, won't you?"

As Ron turned to his breakfast, Harry caught Hermione's eye. She was looking at him and Ron with a happy expression on her face. Harry was sure that she knew what he had been worrying about, but she did not say anything; only smiled and looked down at her own plate.

Halfway through breakfast, the owls flew in with the post. Hedwig attracted Harry's attention by landing on his shoulder, dropping a letter on the table and nipping Harry's ear rather hard.

"Ow! What was that for?" Harry pushed her off his shoulder, and Hedwig landed on the table, looking rather sulky. She had been treating Harry rather coldly lately, jealous of the fact that Blackie was spending more time with him while she was in the owlery. 

Hermione made a fuss of Hedwig and gave her some toast crusts while Harry opened his letter. It was from Sirius. 

__

"Dear Harry,

Hope your term has got off to a good start, and that everything's all right at Hogwarts. Things are much the same here. Remus has gone away for a few days to meet some people. You may be seeing him soon - he may be coming to see Dumbledore at some point. Hope your cat and your owl haven't killed each other yet. Give my regards to Ron and Hermione.

Snuffles."

Getting a letter from Sirius was always a good start to the day, although today had already got off to an extraordinarily good start, Harry reflected. He was looking forward to writing to tell Sirius that he had become the Quidditch captain. As he folded his letter, Harry heard a drawling voice behind him

"My _God_, Gryffindor must be desperate, Crabbe. With Potter in charge, they'll fall apart - this should be the easiest Quidditch Cup Slytherin have ever won."

Harry was in far too good a mood to rise to one of Malfoy's jibes. Still smiling at the letter, he ignored Malfoy completely, and the Slytherins, frustrated, eventually moved on.

__

*****

The day's classes seemed to pass very slowly to Harry, who was impatient for the evening to come. He had agreed with Ron and Hermione that the best time to investigate the corridor with the Quidditch-player statue would probably be late in the evening, when most of the students were in their dormitories. After dinner, the three of them returned to the Gryffindor common room, and did homework while they waited for the room to empty. Harry remembered to get the mysterious silver key out of his trunk, and to write out his Quidditch notice. 

"Are you going to try out for Keeper, Ron?" he asked, as he pinned up the notice. 

"I think you should," Hermione said to Ron, whose ears were going red again. 

Ron was just about to answer her when there was a commotion by the portrait hole as a large group of Gryffindors entered, all talking animatedly. The centre of the group seemed to be Parvati with her arm around her younger brother, Prashant, whose right eye was swelling and reddening rapidly.

"Are you sure you won't go to Madam Pomfrey?" Parvati was saying anxiously. "You really should, you know."

"It's OK, Parvati, don't fuss," Prashant was protesting, looking embarrassed.

"What happened?" George Weasley asked, looking up from his writing. Harry had a strong suspicion that the work Fred and George had been so engrossed in had more to do with their latest invention than their homework.

Ginny Weasley detached herself from the crowd and came across to where her brothers were sitting. "Parvati's little brother caught that Slytherin first-year - Raymond Crabbe - pinching sweets out of his bag. They had a fight."

"Who won?" Harry asked, interested.

"Prashant did," said Ginny. "Even though Raymond Crabbe's twice the size of him." 

"Excellent!" said Ron. "Always good to hear of a Crabbe being beaten up. Did he damage him much?"

"_Ron!_" Hermione protested. "They shouldn't have been fighting at all. They're lucky none of the teachers caught them."

Ron gave her a knowing look. "You just wish you'd seen it happen."

"Raymond Crabbe's nose was absolutely streaming blood," Ginny continued, "though he did give Prashant a black eye."

"Prashant had better watch out," Harry said, "or he'll have Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy after him."

"Must be a good fighter, though," said Ron, looking across the room at Prashant with a new respect. "Maybe we could train him up a bit and set him on Crabbe senior - I'm _joking_, Hermione, I'm _joking_!"

*****

It seemed to take a very long time for the Gryffindor common room to empty, but eventually most of the students started to put their homework and hobbies away and head for the dormitories. Hermione chivvied a few of the first-years to bed, and then started worrying again that she, as a Prefect, should not be walking about the corridors at night.

"Oh, come on, Hermione, you know you want to see this statue as much as we do," Ron said, as Harry returned from making sure Blackie was shut up in his dormitory. "You wouldn't like it if we went without you."

"Perhaps you shouldn't go right now - what if someone catches you?"

"We're _going_," Harry said firmly. "And it's not as if we're doing anything _very _bad - we're not even leaving the building. We have to go past your Arithmancy classroom - if we get caught, you can always say you were looking for a book."

"Yeah, and you asked us to come with you so you wouldn't have to walk down those scary dark corridors by yourself," Ron said, grinning at Hermione.

Hermione glared at him in a most unprefectly way. "All right, all right, let's go if we're going," she said hurriedly. "I just hope we don't run into any teachers - or Peeves." 

The common room was almost empty, and the last few older students did not look up as Harry, Ron and Hermione climbed through the portrait hole and set off down the corridor. The Fat Lady was absent from her portrait - off visiting one of her friends, Harry supposed - so there was no one to ask where they were going. 

The castle passageways were dimly-lit and quiet. Harry, Ron and Hermione made their way to the Arithmancy classroom without talking, keeping a look-out for teachers, students or ghosts who might also be wandering the corridors. 

Harry wished he still had the Marauders' Map which had once belonged to his father and his friends. Since it showed where all the people in the castle were, it would have come in useful for avoiding any unwanted meetings. But Harry no longer had the map. Last term it had been taken from him by the false Professor Moody - Barty Crouch, who was now worse than dead. When Crouch had been taken away by the Dementors, the Marauders' Map had been found among his possessions. Professor Dumbledore had taken it into his own keeping. Harry understood why he had done so - too many of the teachers, including Professors McGonagall and Snape, now knew about the map, and with Voldemort returned they did not want to encourage Harry to wander around with it. Professor Dumbledore had told Harry that he would look after the map, and would return it to Harry one day when he felt the time was right. Still, Harry wished he had it with him. It _would _have come in useful now -

"Stop!" Hermione hissed. They had reached the top of the stairs by the Arithmancy classroom. "Where did Dobby say to go next?"

"Third corridor on the left…" They continued cautiously along the passageways and stairs, Harry trying to remember all Dobby's directions, and aware of the heavy key in his pocket, knocking against his hip. Once, they heard Peeves cackling to himself in the distance, and had to wait in an alcove, holding their breath, until they heard him go out of earshot. 

At last, high up in a part of the school they did not know well, they turned into a corridor Harry recognised instantly. "This is it!" he said, stopping suddenly. 

"Is this the place you dreamed about?" Hermione asked, peering down the passageway. "Where's the statue?"

Harry looked along the line of closed oak doors. They were just as he remembered them from his dream. So were the paintings and statues which lined the walls, and the faded flowered carpet on which he was standing. He looked further along, and his heart thumped with excitement as he saw the statue of the Quidditch player.

"There."

They hurried down the passageway until they reached the statue. Just as in Harry's dream, the stone Quidditch player was frozen on his broom, hand outstretched, grasping the Quaffle. 

"Oh, he's a Caerphilly Catapults player," said Ron knowledgeably, looking at the statue's striped robes. "D'you know what, Harry, I bet you this is "Dangerous Dai" Llewellyn, he was the most famous player the Catapults ever had, you know - "

"_Can we just get on with it?_" Hermione hissed, glancing nervously over her shoulder. "You can talk about Quidditch any time!"

"All right, all right…"

Harry put both his hands around the stone Quaffle, and gave it a hard tug. It stuck, as though it had not been moved for many years, but he felt it move just a little. He pulled harder - there was a grating, protesting sound from the stones - and then he staggered backwards as the Quaffle came away in his hands.

In the empty palm of the statue's hand was a keyhole, rimmed with tarnished silver. 

Harry, Ron and Hermione stared at the keyhole, then at each other, with mounting anticipation. Harry set down the heavy stone Quaffle on the carpet, then felt for the large silver key in his pocket. "Want to see if it fits?"

"You might need this, Harry," said Hermione, and to Harry's surprise she produced a small oilcan from the pocket of her robes. "I thought the lock might be stiff after all this time."

"_Brilliant_, Hermione," Ron said, admiringly, as Harry took the oilcan and squirted a few drops into the keyhole. Handing the can back to Hermione, he lined up the key with the keyhole carefully. It was a perfect fit. As Harry turned the key, it moved smoothly, and they all heard the small _click _as the lock opened.

*****

__

To be continued…I'm sorry, I know I'm evil! But at least I've got this part up…

**__**

Please review…and expect to see part 11 up in about another week. I've got a new pic on my author page - d'you like my hat? J 


	11. Part 11

Disclaimer: As with all the other parts of this story, the characters belong to JK Rowling, except for the few I've invented __

Disclaimer: As with all the other parts of this story, the characters belong to JK Rowling, except for the few I've invented.

Author's note: Sorry this part took slightly longer than I claimed it would. Too tired, and too much else going on! Thanks for the nice comments so far, and for putting up with the cliffhanger at the end of part 10… 

Summary: Harry, Ron and Hermione take an unexpected journey, Blackie helps out, Professor Stoddard arrives, and Malfoy has the worst Potions lesson of his life! 

*****

Part 11

  
*****

Harry, Ron and Hermione stared at the statue of the Quidditch player as the lock clicked, but nothing seemed to happen. The statue did not move. No hidden door appeared, as they had been half-expecting.

"Funny," said Ron. "Don't tell me it - _ow!_"

He had given the statue's hand an impatient push - and had been sent staggering forward as the whole stone arm swung suddenly back under his weight. There was a grating rumble and a black opening in the stone wall of the corridor appeared abruptly. Ron would have fallen headfirst through the opening, if Harry and Hermione had not rushed to grab the back of his robes. 

"Blimey!" Ron managed to regain his balance, and stared at the hole in the wall. "Wasn't expecting that."

Harry moved forward. He could feel a cold breeze blowing from the opening, stirring his fringe as he bent to look, expecting to see a tunnel leading into the wall. But…all he could see was utter blackness...no floor, no walls, just - blackness. Cautiously, he put out a hand into the black space, groping around. His hand seemed to be moving in empty air. 

"Come on, then, let's take a look," Ron said impatiently behind him.

"Ron - I don't think we should go down there - we don't know where it leads to - "

"Of course we don't, Hermione, that's why we have to go and find out - "

"This is weird," Harry said, interrupting them. He was kneeling down now, still investigating the dense darkness with his hand. "It's not like an ordinary passageway - I just can't see anything."

"Don't go in there, Harry," Hermione said anxiously. "What if you can't get out again?"

Harry turned to look up at her. "Look - Remus and Sirius had the key, didn't they? They wouldn't tell us where it led to, _but _they let me take the key. If it led to something _really_ dangerous, I don't reckon they'd have let me take it."

"Perhaps they never thought you'd find the place the key fitted - "

"Be cool if we found a secret passageway Fred and George don't know about, wouldn't it?" Ron said, grinning.

"But if it's a secret passageway, wouldn't it have been marked on the Marauders' Map?" Harry asked. He looked at Hermione's worried face. "Just let us have a quick look, and then I promise we'll go back to Gryffindor Tower and your Prefectly conscience won't be troubled any more."

"Well…all right…but we'd better hurry up."

"_We_?" Ron raised his eyebrows.

"You don't suppose I'd let you go in there without me, do you?" Reluctantly, Hermione smiled at them, and Harry knew she was remembering all the times they had broken rules together in the past. 

"I'm going first," he said. "Better stay close."

Harry felt Ron put a hand on his back as he ducked his head to get into the narrow opening. 

The blackness seemed to close around him like a cold cloud. Harry took small steps, feeling the floor with his feet to make sure he wasn't about to step over the edge of a stair, or worse, some sheer drop in the darkness. And then - as he was completely plunged into it - the black cloud started to whirl around him alarmingly. He had no time to reach for his wand, was only just aware of Ron's sudden alarmed clutch at his shoulder, when the air started to move at a frightening speed, a cold whirlwind flapping at his robes, and Harry at the centre of it. Throwing out his arms, Harry tried to touch a wall, but there was nothing to touch, only the empty air that continued to spin around him. It wasn't like using a Portkey - or travelling by Floo Powder - or even the magic mist that had upended him in the Triwizard Maze. This time, Harry's body seemed to be staying still, yet everything around him was - 

Slowing. The whirling air was definitely slowing. His heart pounding, Harry found himself still standing, the wind dying down, the black cloud still surrounding him. As soon as he was sure the air was still, Harry steeled himself and took two firm steps forward - 

- and stepped out of the dark cloud into a stone room that was almost as dark. A faint light from above allowed Harry to see that the room was tiny, with a stone-paved floor, rock walls and a stone bench along one side. There were no windows, but the grey light was glimmering through an opening in the ceiling. A flight of stone steps led up to this opening.

Harry took in the room at a glance, before turning to look behind him. He saw a rough doorway in the wall, through which he must have come. The familiar black cloud filled the doorway, sending tiny breaths of cold air into Harry's face. 

Harry's stomach sank as he realised he was alone. Ron and Hermione had not been whirled here by that cloud, it seemed. When that strange whirlwind had started to spin, Ron must have let go of his shoulder, though Harry had not been aware of it. 

Staring at the doorway, Harry wondered what he should do next. Should he wait, hoping that Ron and Hermione would be brought here too? Should he try stepping back into the black cloud and hoping that he would be returned to them? But what if the cloud took him somewhere completely different? He had a strong feeling that he was no longer anywhere near Hogwarts. Harry decided to wait a few minutes, then try to go back, if there was no sign of his friends. 

Walking across the tiny room, Harry wondered where on earth he was. Unease was prickling the hairs on the back of his neck, and he kept one hand firmly on his wand. He had all-too-vivid memories of the last time he had suddenly been snatched away from Hogwarts; when a Portkey planted by a Death-Eater had taken him abruptly from school and safety to the heart of Voldemort's secret gathering-place. _Could_ Voldemort have known about the key in Remus's trunk? Surely not - and yet - and yet Harry had learnt, much too young, that nowhere was reallysafe, and that danger could be anywhere.

Harry's anxious thoughts were rudely interrupted by a sudden stirring of air from the doorway. He jumped up, wand at the ready, staring at the black cloud, as it swirled suddenly, and Ron and Hermione were pitched forward out of the darkness on to the stone floor, where they landed in an uncomfortable-looking heap of limbs and robes. 

"_Ow!_" Ron was rubbing the arm Hermione had been clutching in a death-grip. 

"_Harry!_" Hermione had disentangled herself from Ron already and jumped to her feet, her frantic face clearing as she saw Harry standing there. "You're all right! We thought-"

"We thought you'd had it, mate," said Ron, climbing to his feet more slowly. "One minute you were there, the next minute you were gone - sucked into that black stuff - and we were still standing in the corridor."

"Oh Harry, we were so _worried_!" Hermione looked as if she would like to have hugged him. "We didn't know _where _you'd gone - and after last time - " She broke off, biting her lip, and Harry knew she was kicking herself for reminding him of the Triwizard Tournament - as if he had needed reminding.

"Yeah, it was a nasty moment," Ron said more cheerfully. "Wasn't looking forward to going and telling Dumbledore we'd lost you, so I thought we'd better try going after you instead."

"I'm OK," Harry reassured them. "Don't worry, Hermione."

"But where _are_ we?" she asked, peering around the dimly-lit room.

"No idea," said Harry. "And I don't know what that cloud thing was either."

Hermione brightened, seeming to forget her worries for a moment, and Harry recognised her look - the look that meant she had information to impart. "Well, I _think_ it must have been a Portal - I've read about them, but they're quite rare - usually they just transport people in space, but sometimes they can transport people in time -"

"Great, so you mean we could be either any_where_ or any_when_," Ron muttered, crossing the floor to the steps and looking up at the opening in the roof. "Hey, I can see stars!"

"Well, you did fall on the floor quite hard," Harry said, deadpan.

"Not _those_ kind of stars, you git - real stars - that's the sky up there!" Ron pointed, and Harry and Hermione joined him, gazing upwards. It was true. Above them, visible through the opening, was a night sky, punctuated with bright stars.

"Let's see what's up there," Harry said, and they climbed out of the underground room in single file, Harry leading. Although he felt better at being with Ron and Hermione again, he was still tense with anticipation, and ready to react to anything they might find waiting for them.

Climbing out of the opening, Harry felt springy turf under his hands and feet. He straightened up, moved aside to let Ron and Hermione climb out, and stared around him with astonishment. Dark though it was, he could make out the surroundings, and they were strangely familiar…

"Hey! I know where we are!" Ron said, his jaw dropping as he too gazed around.

"Isn't this where Sirius brought us - his old home?" Hermione asked. 

"Yeah," was Harry's only response, as he stared at the darkened hillside around them, the mossy tumbled grey stones and gorse bushes - the ruins of Blackdale House. There was no sign of anyone else around. Turning, he saw the dark outlines of familiar trees and hills, and he was sure he could see a glimmer of light from Gatehouse Cottage through the trees. "Remus and Sirius must be just over there." 

"Great, let's go and see them," suggested Ron.

"Ron, we _can't_!"

Harry shook his head, for once agreeing with Hermione's caution. "Sirius would kill me. He's warned me a million times to stay in or near Hogwarts now that Voldemort's back. He'd have a fit if he knew we were wandering around here at night." He looked again at the lights of the cottage - only a few minutes walk away through the trees - and thought with a moment's longing of the place he now knew so well. Were the things he had left in his bedroom still untouched? Was Remus writing at his desk? What were Sirius, Mundungus and Mrs. Figg doing? Harry was conscious of feeling homesick for somewhere that was not Hogwarts, for the first time in his life. "No, we can't let them see us," he said reluctantly. "Sirius would be owling Dumbledore to turn us in before we had time to argue."

"D'you think they used to use this Portal when they were at Hogwarts?" Ron said. "Bet they did. Bet they used it to sneak back here when they wanted anything from Sirius's house, or Remus's house - "

"Then - Wormtail must have known about it," said Hermione, suddenly anxious again. "That could be dangerous - what if he used it as a way to get into Hogwarts?"

"Maybe it doesn't work if the Hogwarts entrance is locked?" Harry suggested. "Anyway, I think we'd better get back before someone notices we're gone. Come on."

Surprisingly familiar though this place was, Harry was still uneasy at being so far from Hogwarts, where Sirius thought he was safe. Some of his unease must have sounded in his voice, because even Ron did not argue when Harry turned to leave. He took one last look across the ruins, at the stars in the night sky, at the distant light from Gatehouse Cottage, before leading the way back through the narrow, overgrown opening and down the stone stairs. 

"This must have been a kind of cellar when Blackdale House was still here," Hermione said, when they were all down in the underground stone room again.

"We'd better hang on to each other, if we want to stay together this time," Harry said. "That worked when you two came through, didn't it?"

Hermione nodded, and Ron muttered, "Yeah, I've got the bruises on my arm to prove it." 

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, before reaching out to grasp his other arm firmly. She gripped Harry's arm with her other hand. 

"Right. Come on, then," said Harry. He took a deep breath as he stepped into the doorway once again. Moments later, standing blindly in the blackness, he felt the air start to whirl again around him. This time, instead of groping for non-existent walls, he reached to clasp Hermione's hand on to his arm more tightly. If they didn't end up back at Hogwarts, he wanted to make very sure they all ended up in the same place.

*****

"Now if we can only get back to Gryffindor Tower without anyone realising we've gone," Hermione murmured as they hurried along corridors and stairways. Hogwarts was very quiet now, their footfalls on the carpets and floorboards the only sound.

Harry felt the key in his pocket banging against his leg once more. What would Sirius say, he wondered, if he knew they had found out the secret of this key and the Portal it unlocked? He would like to hear the story of the Marauders' discovery of the Portal - one more of those stories about his father he had yet to hear.

"Wait!" Ron, who was leading this time, had halted suddenly as they reached a fork in the passageways. He flattened himself against the wall, and beckoned the others to do the same. "Thought I heard something…"

Harry could hear his own breathing as they waited. There _was_ a faint noise, he thought - and then his heart sank into his shoes as he saw a scrawny, dust-coloured cat slinking around the corner towards them, her huge eyes bulging as she saw them.

"_That's_ torn it," Ron muttered gloomily. "Mrs.Norris."

"Oh _no_," said Hermione, dismayed. 

Harry knew that now the caretaker's cat had spotted them, Filch himself would probably appear within seconds. He had a strange connection with his cat. They were sunk unless they got out of here very fast. 

"Let's go," he whispered urgently - then stared as he saw another figure coming around the corner. It was not Filch. 

"_Blackie!_" 

Larger and sleeker than Mrs. Norris, his own black cat was approaching the caretaker's cat from behind. Her yellow eyes were fixed on Mrs. Norris with a very unfriendly expression. Harry, Ron and Hermione were frozen for a moment as they watched - and then Blackie pounced.

There was a horrible squeal as she landed on Mrs. Norris, claws outstretched. Mrs. Norris shot about five feet off the ground, yowling, before landing, fur spiky with terror, and tearing off down the passageway as fast as her paws could carry her, with Blackie in hot pursuit.

"Good _work_," Ron said, grinning widely at Harry. "That should keep her busy for a while."

"And Filch will probably be here looking for her, so we really need to get out of here," Harry said, unable to stop himself from grinning back. Like every Hogwarts student, he had a hearty loathing for Mrs. Norris, and found Blackie's routing of her quite funny.

Without saying another word, the three Gryffindors dived into a side passage and made their way towards their common room entrance as quickly and as quietly as they could.

"Where have _you_ been?" asked the Fat Lady suspiciously, five minutes later, as she surveyed the three of them, noticing their dishevelled robes and guilty expressions. "Do you know it's past midnight?"

"Studying," Ron said airily, "OWLs, you know."

"Password?"

"_Mackled Malaclaws_," said Hermione breathlessly, anxious to be safely inside Gryffindor Tower. 

The common room was deserted, much to their relief.

Harry collapsed on to the arm of a chair. "I thought Blackie was shut up in the dormitory. Seamus or Dean or Neville must have let her out."

"She must have come looking for you," Hermione said. 

"Lucky she did," said Ron. "Seems like Gryffindor's acquired two good fighters this term - first Parvati's brother, and now your cat, Harry!"

"I hope she's all right," Hermione said, rather anxiously. 

"I expect she'll come back to Gryffindor Tower when she's ready," Harry assured her. "She can take care of herself."

"Yeah. We noticed," said Ron. "What a night, eh? Can't believe we've found an actual Portal."

"We really shouldn't use it again," Hermione warned them. "It could be dangerous for you, Harry - especially if Wormtail knows about it."

"I know," Harry said seriously. "I'm not going to make a habit of it, don't worry. I've just - I've just got a feeling it's going to come in handy some day."

"You're not going to let on to Sirius that we've found it, are you?" Ron asked.

"Not yet." Harry yawned, suddenly hugely tired. "I'm going to bed. We can talk about this some more tomorrow. 'Night, Hermione."

Seamus, Dean and Neville were asleep when Harry and Ron reached their dormitory. They had taken the precaution of drawing their bed-curtains earlier, in the hope that their friends would assume they were already in bed. 

Harry's thoughts were still whirling like that mysterious dark cloud as he put out the light and lay down to go to sleep. It had been quite a day - a day which had started with him becoming Quidditch Captain and ended with that amazing, unexpected trip to the ruins of Blackdale House. He could still hardly believe that he was Captain - that he would be in charge of the Gryffindor practices, as Wood had been. Fred and George had threatened to throw him a celebratory party after the trials for Keeper tomorrow. 

And as for the Portal…Drifting into sleep, Harry remembered the dreams he had had in the summer holidays; the dreams of that grassy hilltop, the tumbled stones, the shadowy figures… Now that he knew there was a Portal leading from Hogwarts to that very place, Harry was more sure than ever that his dreams were going to be significant. His dream about the statue and the key had proved to be true - what did his dreams of Blackdale House foreshadow?

But Harry was not aware of dreaming tonight. He was so deeply sunk in sleep that when Blackie leapt on to his bed, two hours later, and set up a satisfied purring as she warmed his feet, he was completely unaware of her.

__

*****

Harry and Ron both slept late the next morning, and had to bolt their breakfasts in order to be on time for their first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson of the term. There was an awkward moment at the breakfast table.

"How did you get those bruises, Ron?" Ginny asked curiously, when Ron's sleeve fell back as he reached for the butter, showing the black finger-marks plainly visible on his fair, freckled skin. 

Hermione looked rather guilty as she looked at Ron's arm. Ron looked from her to Ginny, obviously trying to think of a convincing excuse, but Harry got there first.

"We were practising Quidditch yesterday, and nearly crashed into each other. I lost my balance and grabbed him."

Ginny looked unconvinced. "_You_ lost your balance?"

"We _must _go," Hermione cut in, standing up quickly, "or we'll be late for Defence Against the Dark Arts. I really want to see what Professor Stoddard's like."

Harry and Ron drained their glasses of juice hastily and leapt up to follow her out of the Great Hall, leaving Ginny to stare after them.

The other fifth-year Gryffindors were already waiting when Harry, Ron and Hermione arrived at the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. 

"Remember last year?" Seamus was saying. "That Moody - what a nutcase."

"Cool, though, when he showed us the Unforgivable Curses," Dean said. 

"_Constant vigilance_," Seamus said, imitating Moody's voice, and there was some laughter.

Harry wondered what they would say if they ever found out that Moody had not been Moody at all. He caught Hermione's eye, and knew that she was thinking the same thing. 

The door opened, and a woman in black robes came in. She was carrying a pile of books. As she walked to the teacher's desk, Harry stared at her.

"Good morning," she said, turning to face them with a friendly smile. "I am Professor Stoddard. I'm sorry that we missed our lesson earlier in the week, but I assure you we will be working hard to cover all you need to know. Please sit down."

She had brown hair, with a few grey hairs in it, and rather wistful brown eyes. Harry recognised her at once. 

As the Gryffindors took their seats, Ron leaned across to whisper to Harry. "Hey! We've seen her somewhere before - where was it?"

"In the apothecary's shop in Diagon Alley," Harry whispered back. Ron nodded, his face clearing.

"That's it!"

As Professor Stoddard took the register, Harry wondered what she had been doing serving in the apothecary's shop, if she was really a Professor. It was strange, but he could not help thinking he had seen her somewhere else as well…there was _something _about her face… He had to stop musing about it, and pay attention, as Professor Stoddard began to address them briskly. It was obvious she was not going to let them have much spare time for daydreaming in her class.

__

*****

"I can't _believe_ the amount of homework she expects from us," Ron said in disgust, after lunch. He had been complaining since the end of the Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. "Four rolls of parchment!"

"Well, we have got OWLs this year," Hermione pointed out, as they descended the steps to the dungeons for Potions. 

"Don't keep reminding us," said Harry, whose mood had plummeted at the prospect of facing two hours with Snape and the Slytherins. 

"And talking of homework," Hermione continued, "we ought to do some work on our History of Magic project tonight, Ron."

"Can't tonight," Ron told her. "Quidditch trials, remember?"

"So you've definitely decided to try out for Keeper?" Harry said, brightening. "That's great!"

"Well, all right, but tomorrow night we _must_ get on with the project," Hermione said. "You and Neville ought to get on with it too, Harry - you haven't even decided on a title yet, have you?"

"Nope."

Hermione opened her mouth as if to say something else, then thought better of it. She contented herself with shaking her head, before hastening her steps to keep up with Ron's long strides.

The Slytherins were already waiting in the passage which led to Snape's dungeon. To Harry's surprise, they were not wearing the expressions of smug anticipation they usually wore before a Potions lesson with the Gryffindors. Instead, they were muttering angrily amongst themselves.

"Something up?" Seamus asked Blaise Zabini, the Slytherin most likely to give him a civil answer. "Where's Snape? It's not like him to be late."

"Professor Snape's not here today," Pansy Parkinson snapped crossly. "Professor McGonagall told us he'd been called away. That Delacour girl's _filling in_." 

"_No Snape_? And _Fleur Delacour'_s teaching us Potions instead?" Ron looked as though his birthday and Christmas had just arrived at once. Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry.

"I'm going to write to my father about this," Draco Malfoy was saying loudly to his usual audience of Crabbe and Goyle. "How are we supposed to get through important examinations with some teenager teaching us? She probably doesn't know as much about Potions as I do - "

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Harry automatically. He liked Fleur, though he had never been mesmerised by her in the way Ron had. Besides that, as a Potions teacher she had to be a vast improvement on Snape, as far as the Gryffindors were concerned. Harry wondered why Snape had been "called away". He had known since last term that Snape, an ex-Death-Eater, had agreed to spy on Voldemort for Dumbledore. Was he with Voldemort, even now?

"Well, I might have known you'd defend her, Potter - Triwizard losers must stick together," Malfoy began, but before a real argument could develop, Fleur's light footsteps were heard in the stone passageway, and she appeared, wearing pale blue robes and shaking back her long, silvery hair. 

"'Allo, you are ze fifth-year class? Please go inside and we will begin." She gave Harry a quick smile as she passed him.

The Gryffindors filed into their seats in the Potions room, talking cheerfully. The Slytherins were still muttering sulkily. 

"Professor Snape 'as been called away," Fleur began, "but 'e 'as left me notes for zis lesson. We will be learning about cleaning charms, and ze use of Bundimun secretions. You will all know about Bundimuns, I am sure - "

Malfoy muttered something under his breath that sounded like "Child's play."

"Excuse me, Mistaire - ?"

"Malfoy," Malfoy drawled. 

"Mistaire Malfoy. Yes, I 'ave 'eard of you," Fleur said thoughtfully. "You 'ave a comment?"

"Well, yes, actually. Surely cleaning charms are a bit basic for us? I mean, we _are_ fifth-years."

Several Slytherins sniggered at this. Fleur remained calm, however. "That may or may not be true, Mistaire Malfoy. 'Owever, zis is the work Professor Snape wishes us to do, so we will do it."

The lesson progressed. Harry thought Fleur was actually rather good at explaining the potion they were going to make. Her instructions were clear, and she did not pause every two minutes to take points off Gryffindor, as Snape usually did. Harry thought she was going to have trouble with the Slytherins, though. Malfoy had continued to make comments under his breath, and when they were asked to set up their cauldrons and unpack their ingredients, he and his friends did it as loudly and distractingly as possible. 

"_Really_," Hermione muttered to Harry and Ron, as they measured out their ingredients. "How _childish_." Malfoy and Goyle were now flicking bits of dried armadillo's toenails at each other behind Fleur's back, while the other Slytherins were making the kind of noise Snape would never have permitted in his dungeon.

Malfoy was now doing an impression of Fleur, tossing his fair hair around and batting his eyelashes. The other Slytherins were laughing so hard they forgot to watch out. A sudden silence fell as the Gryffindors looked up to see Fleur pointing her wand at Malfoy, her face cold with anger. Malfoy's mouth, Harry noticed, had fallen open in surprise.

"I 'ear you made a _verree_ pretty ferret once, Mistaire Malfoy," Fleur said, her wand aimed at Malfoy's chest. "Well, me, I can zink of much more exotic animal zan zat. Do not tempt me."

Harry had seldom enjoyed anything more than the look on Malfoy's face at that moment. 

"I make myself clear, yes?"

Malfoy shut his mouth at last. "Yes."

"Yes, _Miss Delacour_," Fleur said, and did not remove her wand until he had repeated it.

"Did you see that?" Ron demanded later, as the Gryffindors hurried up the steps from the dungeons, all eager to share the story of Malfoy's discomfiture. "Malfoy was _toast_."

"Well, he deserved it," Hermione said. Her opinion of Fleur seemed to have risen slightly.

"I bet he'll be straight off to write to his dad, complaining about Fleur threatening him," Harry said. 

"Fantastic, wasn't she?" Ron said admiringly. 

"Hadn't we better hurry up?" Hermione said, rather coldly. "We ought to get some homework done before dinner, if the Quidditch trials are afterwards." She hurried on ahead of Ron and Harry towards Gryffindor Tower.

Harry and Ron exchanged looks. "Best Potions lesson we've ever had," Harry said, grinning.

"Yeah - and Quidditch tonight!" 

Ron and Harry followed Hermione and the other Gryffindors, still discussing the Potions lesson. Harry wondered how the Quidditch trials would go. Would he make a good Captain? Only time would tell.

*****

__

To be continued…

There, that was a nice long chapter for you. Coming in part 12 - the Quidditch trials, plus, Remus visits Hogwarts and Neville gives Harry some startling information… 


	12. Part 12

Disclaimer: The characters belong to JK Rowling, except for the few I've invented __

Disclaimer: The characters belong to JK Rowling, except for the few I've invented.

Author's note: I know, this part is months late. My excuses are many and mostly highly unlikely - let's just say it's been a very eventful summer. But I have written loads (of this story and another one) - it's just finding the time to tidy them up and post them. Hopefully part 13 should be along in days, not months! Everyone's forgotten the story by now, I expect - re-reading the earlier chapters might be useful.

Summary: The Gryffindor Quidditch team chooses a new Keeper, Harry learns some startling new information from Neville, and Remus visits Hogwarts and gets a shock…

*****

Part 12

  
*****

At the Gryffindor table during dinner that evening most of the conversation was concerned with speculation about the new Quidditch Keeper, or descriptions of Fleur's defeat of Malfoy in the Potions lesson. Colin Creevey was heard to say wistfully that he hoped Fleur and not Snape would still be teaching Potions when he and the other fourth-years had their lesson next day.

Professor Snape, Harry noticed, was absent from the Staff table at dinner, and so was Professor Dumbledore. At the end of the meal, Professor McGonagall stood up and made an announcement.

"I have a message from Mr. Filch," she said, glaring around at the students over her square spectacles. "Mr. Filch is very upset. His cat, Mrs. Norris, appears to have been attacked by an unknown cat last night. Fortunately, she was not seriously hurt." 

With a look, Professor McGonagall quelled the whispers of "_Shame_," which could be heard from certain students, and continued: 

"Mr. Filch would like me to tell you that if he discovers the owner of the cat in question…well, let's just say he won't be very happy with them. Will _all_ the students who own cats please try to ensure that their animals are kept under control _at_ _all times - _"

Harry avoided catching Ron's eye, knowing he would not be able to keep himself from laughing if he did. Hermione was trying to look severe, but Harry noticed her lips twitching as she glanced down at her plate, and she would not look at him, or Ron either.

Wondering when Blackie's eagerness to defend him would next come in useful, Harry looked away along the table and saw Fred Weasley signalling at him.

"See you in an hour, right, Harry?" Fred called to him. 

Harry remembered his new Captain's duties. "Yeah - we'll meet in the changing rooms," he said. 

Harry had always loved playing Quidditch, even when Oliver Wood had made the team practise in the freezing cold at some unearthly hour of the morning. He was longing to get back to his favourite sport, especially after the cancellation of the inter-House competition last year, but there was a small knot of apprehension in his stomach as he reached his dormitory to change his shoes and collect his Firebolt. He had never actually been in charge of the team before. He only hoped he would be up to the job. At least, he thought, Professor McGonagall was coming to the Keeper trials this evening - and the whole team was going to help to make the selection. It would not all be his responsibility.

When he had finished tying his shoes, Harry looked across the dormitory towards Ron, who was sitting on his bed polishing his old broom, unusually silent. So much had happened in the last couple of days that Harry had not really had a chance to talk to his friend about Ron's decision to try out for the position of Keeper. He felt guiltily that perhaps he should have offered to fit in a few practice sessions with Ron before now.

Ron looked up suddenly, and grinned as he saw Harry's worried expression. "What's up? Worried your team won't do what you tell them? If Fred or George give you any trouble, just threaten to set Mum on them."

Harry grinned back, relieved. "Yeah, I'll do that. Good luck at the trials, Ron."

Ron shrugged, and looked slightly embarrassed. "I thought I might as well try out, just for a laugh. I probably won't get on the team. I expect McGonagall would have a fit at the idea of three Weasleys playing for Gryffindor at the same time."

"Don't be daft - you're a really good player," Harry told him firmly, as they made their way down the stairs, broomsticks in their hands.

*****

The stands around the Quidditch pitch were far from full, but there was quite a lot of interest in the Gryffindor trials. At least a quarter of Gryffindor House had come to watch their team in action for the first time that season, and there were a few students from the other houses who had come along, either to check out the opposition or just because they loved Quidditch. 

Harry found the rest of the team in the changing-rooms, laughing at Fred's story of the havoc one of the twins' trick wands had caused in a Charms lesson that afternoon. Whatever the wand had done to Professor Flitwick, all the seventh year Gryffindors seemed to think it had been worth the loss of five points from Gryffindor. 

Harry had just finished buckling on his kneepads when Professor McGonagall came into the changing-rooms. "I'm glad to see you are all punctual," she said briskly. "Madam Hooch is just taking the names of the students who want to be tried for Keeper. How did you intend to test them, Potter?" 

She had swivelled quickly round to fire the question at Harry, and he flinched slightly as she fixed him with her gaze. 

"Um." Harry pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, squared his shoulders and got a grip on his thoughts. "If they take turns in goal, the Chasers can try scoring against them. Then, after that, Fred and George could bash a few Bludgers about as well to make it more difficult."

"Very well," said Professor McGonagall. I will be waiting for you outside." She swept out, and the Gryffindor team looked at one another for a moment.

"Right," said Fred. "Shall we get on with it then?"

Madam Hooch had collected together the five would-be Keepers, fitted them out with spare elbow and kneepads, and lined them up in alphabetical order. Ron was the last in the line, and the tallest. 

As always, Harry felt his anxieties disappear as he mounted his Firebolt and zoomed up into the sky. While Professor McGonagall was explaining the procedure to the hopeful Keepers, Harry took a few moments to soar and dip from one set of goalposts to the other, reminding himself how smooth in acceleration his Firebolt was, and how responsive it was to each tiny change in steering. As he flew past he saw Hermione sitting in the stands with Neville, Ginny, and several of Ginny's fourth-year friends, including Colin Creevey.

The first Keeper to be tried out was a burly sixth-year, Simon Ellerby, whose shoulders were almost as wide as Goyle's. He seemed an impressive obstacle blocking the path to the goalposts as he faced Alicia, Angelina and Katie, but Harry wondered if he might not be too heavy to manoeuvre quickly. Harry watched as the three Chasers threw the Quaffle to each other, before Angelina caught it and looped swiftly above Ellerby's head to aim at the nearest golden hoop. She had scored and retrieved the Quaffle for another try before Ellerby had completed his turn. After five minutes, Ellerby had saved ten shots but let in another ten. He had worked hard, but had not always moved quickly enough to get into position. Harry was pleased to see that his Chasers were working as smoothly together as if they had not had a year's break from competitive play. 

When Madam Hooch blew her whistle Ellerby, looking rather disappointed, flew down to the ground, and his place was taken by Natalie McDonald, a small, round-faced second-year girl with bobbed brown hair. She soon proved to be quick, and never took her eye from the Quaffle as the Chasers passed and shot, but once or twice her arms were just not long enough to reach out and save a goal. Watching her, Harry thought that in a year or two, when she had grown a bit, she might be an excellent player. The Chasers only scored four goals against her.

A curly-haired fourth-year boy, Tertius Peasegood, followed Natalie. Harry saw Ginny, Colin, and the other fourth-year Gryffindors, joining in the cheer of encouragement which followed Tertius on to the field. The Gryffindor Chasers managed to score eight times against Tertius, who left the field still grinning broadly. They scored another eight goals against Harriet Quigley, the skinny third-year girl who followed Tertius. 

Ron was the last prospective Keeper to fly upwards and hover in front of the golden hoops. He looked tense, Harry thought, and rather pale under his freckles, but his jaw was clenched with determination and one hand was clutching his broom's handle very tightly.

Katie Bell had the Quaffle, and she was swooping along the pitch in lazy spirals, making as though she was about to pass it to Angelina. Putting on a sudden burst of speed, she dodged a Bludger, swerved right round George and lobbed the Quaffle to Alicia, who flew up high and fast and sent the Quaffle over Ron's head towards the nearest golden hoop. Ron shot backwards and flung out one long arm above the hoop. The Quaffle bounced off his hand, missed the hoop and fell downwards, to be neatly retrieved by Madam Hooch. 

__

Nice one, Ron! Harry thought, grinning, but managing not to shout it out loud, remembering that as Captain he was supposed to be an impartial judge today. He heard a cheer, though, from the stands where Hermione, Ginny, Neville and the others were watching. 

After a few minutes, Fred and George started hitting the Bludgers to each other again, weaving in and out of the other players just to make things more interesting. Ron had to duck a couple of times, but seemed to be able to predict where his brothers were going to attack from well enough to evade them. Harry circled the players, wincing as Angelina managed to fool Ron at last and dart in to score the first goal against him. When Madam Hooch's whistle went to signal the end of Ron's trial, though, the Chasers had only scored twice against him. Harry watched his friend head for the ground, looking rather pleased with himself. 

Madam Hooch was beckoning the Gryffindor team to come down and join her and Professor McGonagall. They landed, and moved away from the group of hopeful Keepers to hold a team conference. As they waited for the Weasley twins to finish wrestling the Bludgers back into their box, Harry found himself next to Madam Hooch. 

"I've been wanting a word with you, Potter," she said. "I've got a useful boy in my first-year flying class - Prashant Patil. D'you know him?"

"Prashant? Yeah, he's Parvati's younger brother," Harry said, looking across to the stands. Prashant, still sporting a black eye from his fight with Raymond Crabbe, was sitting over there with a bunch of first-years who were making a lot of excited noise.

"Well, he seems like a fine prospect. Very quick - got a good eye, too. Right build for a Seeker. I thought you might like to train him up as your reserve." 

Harry was taken aback. "Reserve?"

"Always useful to have one," Madam Hooch pointed out. "You _do_ have a bit of a reputation for injuries, after all. And it's always worth looking to the future - you _want_ Gryffindor to carry on winning after you leave, don't you?"

"Er - yeah, of course," said Harry. Her words had given him a jolt. For the first time, he realised that his days at Hogwarts were passing quickly. In a few short years, he and his friends would be gone from here, and other students would be wearing the Gryffindor team robes on the Quidditch pitch. When Harry had first joined the team, people had said _He's the best Seeker we've had since Charlie Weasley_ - in a few years' time, would they be saying of Prashant, or someone else, _He's the best Seeker we've had since Harry Potter? _ Harry found it a bitter-sweet thought. Playing Quidditch for Gryffindor was something he could happily go on doing for years to come.

"Oi! Harry! Wake up!" George was grinning at him. The Weasley twins had joined the team conference. Harry dragged his thoughts away from the future and back to the present. He looked rather uncomfortably at the rest of the team. He wanted Ron to succeed so much but he did not want to be accused of favouritism. He was not totally sure how Fred and George felt about having Ron on the team either. 

"So, what do you think?" Professor McGonagall asked them.

The Chasers had been talking quietly together. Now Angelina turned and said, "We're pretty sure about who we'd like - if it's all right with you, Professor - and the Captain, of course!" And she smiled at Harry.

In the end, the vote was unanimous.

*****

"Don't be too down-hearted," Madam Hooch told the unsuccessful Keepers. "You all played well. Next year there will be a good many vacancies on your House team. You should keep that in mind, and keep working on your game."

Ron, still scarlet to the ears, was standing next to Harry, seemingly stunned into silence by the announcement Professor McGonagall had just made. 

__

"Ron!" Hermione was running across the field towards them, closely followed by Ginny, Colin and Neville. She beamed at Harry and Ron as she reached them. "Well done, I _knew_ you could do it!" She hesitated for just a moment, before giving Ron a congratulatory hug.

__

"Hermione!" Ron had gone, if it was possible, even more scarlet, although Harry noticed he made no effort to actually fend Hermione off. She released Ron quickly, blushing slightly, and stood back to let Ginny get at him. 

"Ginny - geroff!" Ron did protest as his sister tried to hug him too, but the words were scarcely out of his mouth before he gave an agonised "_Oof_!" and staggered sideways under a sudden onslaught from Fred and George. 

"Hey, nice one Ron! Wait till Mum hears - she'll be chuffed to bits with her little Ronnikins!"

"Shut _up _-"

"We've got to have a party - come on George, let's see if we can get hold of some eats."

The twins hurried off ahead towards the school buildings. Everyone else followed at a more leisurely pace. Other students kept coming up to congratulate Ron, who still looked heartily embarrassed but highly gratified. 

Harry, walking at the back of the group and enjoying his friend's moment of glory, looked round as they reached the front steps of the castle and saw Prashant Patil a short distance away with some other first-years. Harry broke away from his friends and crossed over to Prashant.

"Prashant? Can I have a word with you?"

Prashant looked surprised to have been singled out by the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, but nodded quickly and walked away with Harry. 

"Madam Hooch says you're a really good flier," Harry began abruptly. "She thinks you might make a good reserve Seeker for the Gryffindor team. Are you interested in coming to train with the team?"

Prashant looked at him speechlessly for a moment, before his face broke into its usual broad grin. "With the _team_? D'you _mean_ it?"

"Is that a 'yes'?" Harry asked, grinning back at him.

Prashant nodded, beaming. 

"Great, well, I'll let you know when the first practice is. You'll need a broom - I'll ask Professor McGonagall if she'll bend the rule about no brooms for first-years. If she won't, you can use a school one or we'll borrow one for you. OK?"

Prashant nodded again, then said breathlessly, "_Thanks_, Harry! See you!"

As he watched Prashant dashing off to join his friends, clearly dying to share the big news, Harry was amazed at how old he felt suddenly, watching the first-years talking eagerly together. They made him feel very elderly and worldly-wise. Making his way towards Gryffindor Tower, he remembered how small he had felt at his first team practice, surrounded by older students. Oliver Wood, then a fifth-year, had seemed almost like an adult to him. 

As he climbed through the portrait-hole into the common room, Harry was almost deafened by the noise. The celebration party Fred and George had decided to throw for Ron had already started.

*****

The good moods of the Gryffindor fifth-years did not last into the next morning. After the party, which had lasted until Professor McGonagall had come storming into the common room to send them to bed, quite a few people looked tired and heavy-eyed at the breakfast table. Ron had come down to breakfast still cheerful, but his good mood was soured when Hermione received a letter from Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker who had taken her to the Yule Ball during his visit to Hogwarts. Hermione, understandably, tucked the letter away in her pocket and refused to read it out loud at the table. After a few sarcastic comments from Ron - who still persisted in calling Krum _Vicky_ in an aggravating tone - Hermione snapped back at him, and Harry had to put up with his two friends sniping at each other for the rest of breakfast. Fortunately they could not keep up their argument after the meal, as Hermione stalked off to an Arithmancy class, while Harry dragged the glowering Ron up to North Tower for a Divination lesson that was only remarkable for the number of times a nervous Neville managed to spill the Tarot cards all over the floor.

"Hey, Neville," Harry said to him, as he helped to collect up the cards for the fourth time, "d'you want to meet up in the library tonight and start planning this project we've got to do for History of Magic? We've got to get started on it some time."

"All right." Neville looked pleased at the idea that his collaboration was needed. "I hope you've got some good ideas though, I can't think what to do for it."

Harry considered this as they walked back down the spiral staircase from North Tower. The shortest way back to Gryffindor Tower took them within a few corridors of the place where he knew the Portal lay hidden behind the statue of the Quidditch player. Harry wondered again how many people knew of the Portal's existence, and whether he would ever need it to reach Gatehouse Cottage or the ruins of Blackdale House in a hurry. He appreciated the way this term had already fallen into the comfortable, normal pattern of school - lessons, meals, homework, Quidditch - but he was always aware of the prickle of unease, always half-expecting the next threat from Voldemort and his Death Eaters - and not even in Quidditch could he lose himself completely, and forget the danger.

By the time the school day had finished, with a lively lesson on Fire-Extinguishing Charms from Professor Flitwick, Harry was relieved to see that Ron and Hermione had decided to forget their differences over the letter from Krum. Perhaps feeling guilty about his attitude earlier, Ron did not argue when Hermione decided they needed to work on their History of Magic project that evening.

"I think the medieval witch-trials would be a good period of history to focus on," she said seriously. "It's Professor Binns's favourite subject, so he'll probably give us a good mark for it."

"Hermione," Ron said, straight-faced, "Professor Binns _always_ gives you good marks."

"Yes, well, _you've_ got to do half the work on this project, remember -"

"Neville and I were going to start our project tonight, too," Harry put in quickly, before another argument could develop. 

"Oh yes?" Hermione looked interested. "Have you decided what you're going to choose to research?"

Ron groaned - but very, very quietly.

*****

Harry did have an idea for his History of Magic project now, but he was not sure that Neville would like it. When they had found an empty table in the library and sorted out their quills and parchment, he found Neville looking at him expectantly. "I was thinking," Harry began, "Professor Binns did say _any_ aspect of wizarding history - some of those things Professor Moody told us about Aurors last term were really interesting - why don't we do something about wizarding law-enforcement?" Harry did not mention the fact that "Professor Moody" had actually been a Death Eater. "We could put in about the Aurors, and the setting up of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, and we could write about the punishments wizards have been given, like being sent to Azkaban. What d'you think?"

Harry had been prepared for Neville to turn the idea down. After all, Neville's own parents had been Aurors, before they had been so savagely attacked by Death Eaters that they had been insane ever since. Writing about Aurors and wizarding crime and punishment might be too painful for him. However, Neville greeted the idea more cheerfully than Harry had supposed.

"All right. My Cousin Cyril works for the M.L.E.S., actually - I could owl and ask him to tell us about how it's changed since it was set up."

"Yeah, that's a good idea. And I could owl Ron's dad - he works for the Ministry, and he probably knows some good stuff about the history of the Ministry and how they organise the sections that fight crime."

Harry was surprised at how interested he and Neville both got in planning the sections of their project. They went off and collected a stack of books which looked as though they might come in useful - books with titles such as _Aurors Through the Ages _and_ Broken The Law? - Your Essential Guide to the Wizarding Legal System. _Harry was taking a copy of _Who's Who in the Ministry of Magic _off the shelf when he saw Hermione and Ron ensconced at a table in a far corner - Ron appeared to be ploughing resignedly through the enormous pile of books on the table in search of something, while Hermione took notes in her usual meticulous way. 

Back at his own table, Harry picked up a very old book called _Wizarding Punishments in Victorian Britain _and started to flick through it. The author seemed to have savoured describing some of the more gory punishments, and some of the pictures were quite revolting, Harry thought. He looked to see who had written it, and the author's name caught his attention - Leopold Lestrange. _Lestrange -_ where had he heard that name before?

"Lestrange," he said, aloud. 

"What?" Neville asked. 

"This book - it's by someone called Lestrange. I'm sure I've heard that name before."

"You probably have," Neville shrugged. "They're an old wizarding family. My Gran's mentioned them. She says they all went to the bad. She used to know one - I think his name was Simon - Simon Lestrange. He was one of You-Know-Who's lot. I think he's in Azkaban." 

"Bet he was a Slytherin, then," said Harry, still unable to remember where he had heard the name Lestrange before. 

Neville screwed up his face, as though trying to remember something more. "I'm sure there was something else Gran said about him - oh yeah! His wife's in Azkaban too, I think. And guess what? She's the sister of Malfoy's mum."

"_Malfoy's aunt's_ in _Azkaban_?" Harry said.

"I think so." Neville looked dubious for a moment. "Yeah, I think that's right. You should hear what Gran says about Malfoy's dad. She can't stand him."

"Well, she's not the only one," Harry pointed out. Privately, he was looking forward to telling Ron what he had found out. Malfoy had kept that piece of information pretty quiet. Harry wondered how he felt about having an aunt in Azkaban. Harry still shuddered when he thought of the Dementors, and what Sirius had been through in Azkaban.

__

But Sirius was innocent, he reminded himself. _And I bet Malfoy's aunt's guilty, whatever they put her in Azkaban for._

*****

When the Hogwarts library closed at eight o'clock, Harry and Neville walked back towards Gryffindor Tower with Hermione and Ron, each carrying several heavy books. Hermione was talking about her discoveries concerning medieval witch-burning, and Harry was listening to her with about half his attention, when he saw Professor McGonagall coming towards them along a corridor. 

"Ah, there you are, Potter," she said. "Come to my office - there's a visitor for you." 

"For me?" Harry asked in surprise. 

"That's what I said. Hurry up, now." Professor McGonagall swept off along the corridor, clearly expecting Harry to chase after her. Ron, Hermione and Neville kindly offered to take his books back to Gryffindor Tower for him, and Harry dashed off in pursuit of the Deputy Headmistress.

Harry wondered who could have come to see him. Sirius? No, Sirius would not risk coming back to Hogwarts at this time. Remus, perhaps? After all, Sirius _had_ said in his last letter that Remus was going to visit Hogwarts…

It was indeed Remus Lupin who was waiting in Professor McGonagall's small office, sitting in a chair and watching the flickering of the bright fire. Professor McGonagall showed Harry in, and then withdrew, leaving them alone.

"How are you, Harry?" Remus asked, turning round to smile at him. "Term got off to a good start?"

"Considering what happened last term, everything's fine at the moment," Harry reassured him. "Did you get my owl about Quidditch?"

"About you being made Captain, you mean? We certainly did, and we were both delighted. Your father would have been proud, Harry - he was Captain himself, you know."

"Yeah." Another reason, Harry thought, to treasure his Captain's armband. "And guess what - Ron's Keeper!" 

"Excellent." Remus stood up. "Shall we go for a short walk? You can give me the rest of your news."

The grounds were almost deserted when they walked down the front steps of the castle. Most of the students were in their common rooms by this time, and dusk was falling over the grounds. "It seems longer than a few days since we last saw you, Harry," Remus told him. "I must admit, life does seem quiet at Gatehouse Cottage without you."

"How's Sirius?" Harry asked anxiously. He was worried that his godfather might have fallen into one of the depressed moods that still sometimes overcame him when he reflected on the wasted years in Azkaban.

"He's fine. We've both been very busy. That's why I'm here - I had to come and see Professor Dumbledore." Remus did not offer Harry any details of his meeting with Dumbledore, and Harry knew better than to ask. 

"Professor Snape's been away this week," he mentioned, hoping that Remus might throw light on this mystery. "Fleur Delacour's been teaching us Potions instead - you remember, she was the Beauxbatons champion I told you about. We don't know when Professor Snape's coming back."

But Remus was not to be drawn on the subject of Professor Snape's whereabouts, if, indeed, he had any information on that subject. They strolled for a while around the grounds, keeping near to the castle and talking about Quidditch, Harry's lessons, Mrs. Figg's latest cooking exploits and other safe subjects. Remus laughed when Harry told him how Blackie had won a fight with Mrs. Norris - but Harry did not tell Remus about his discovery of the Portal.

Night had almost fallen, and they had turned to stroll back towards the castle, when Harry said suddenly, "Do they - have they found out where Voldemort is now? Did they find that place where he was hiding?"

Remus looked at Harry sharply. "The place where you were attacked? They found that, yes. But there was no sign of Voldemort by then - only a few traces of your duel with him. He has found a new hiding-place, but that was only to be expected." He paused, and although it was nearly dark Harry could see the look of affection and concern on his face. "You may be assured, Harry," Remus said softly, "that we are all working - doing everything we can - to find him and put a stop to him before he causes more damage to the lives of innocent people."

"I know," Harry said, and they walked on in silence. It was a mild, still evening, and the faint smell of early autumn - leaf and mould - came up from the damp ground as they walked.

They were approaching the castle steps when they saw a figure hurrying out of the front door and down the steps. It was a woman in a dark cloak, and in the dusk Harry just recognised her before she pulled her hood over her brown hair and hurried off along the path which led to Hogsmeade.

Remus stopped walking abruptly. "Who was that?" he asked sharply.

"Oh, that's Professor Stoddard - she's our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Harry told him, wanting to reassure Remus that she was not a suspicious character. "She doesn't live in the castle - she lives in Hogsmeade, because she's got two little kids." 

"What did you say her name was?" Remus asked, still watching Professor Stoddard's retreating figure intently.

"Professor Stoddard. Why, d'you know her?" 

"I - No. No, for a moment she reminded me of someone, that's all. But it can't have been her." Remus shook his head, as if to clear it, and looked back at Harry. "Come on. It's dark now. You need to be in Gryffindor Tower, and I must get back. We'll talk again soon."

As the front doors closed behind Harry and Remus, darkness closed over the grounds, broken only by the golden lights shining from some of the many windows of the castle.

__

To be continued…


	13. Part 13

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling, and are used without her permission __

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling, and are used without her permission.

__

Author's Notes: Chapter 13's up a lot quicker than chapter 12 was! Apologies in advance for anyone who doesn't like the end of this chapter, but trust me - you shouldn't have to wait too long to find out what happens…

__

Summary: Just when Harry thinks everything's going smoothly, Dumbledore gives him some bad news…oh yes, and Crabbe has a close encounter with a cocktail umbrella!

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*****

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Part Thirteen

*****

After the excitement of the Quidditch trials, and the satisfaction of chatting to Remus, Harry found the next few weeks very quiet. He knew, of course, that Dumbledore and many of the other Professors were involved in planning counter-attacks against Voldemort, just as Remus was, but there were few clues as to what exactly was happening in that direction. For all Harry knew, Mr. Weasley and others at the Ministry of Magic were still desperately trying to convince the Minister, Cornelius Fudge, that Voldemort had regained his powers. Teams of wizards working under Dumbledore's directions might be combing Britain searching for clues to Voldemort's whereabouts, Harry supposed, but at Hogwarts everyone seemed intent on carrying on as normal. 

"Normal" meant long hours of doing homework, piled on them by teachers who seemed to be convinced that Voldemort's return would not stop the fifth-years sitting their O.W.L.s next summer. "Normal" meant lengthy sessions in the library with Neville, taking notes on the history of magical law-enforcement and watching Ron and Hermione bickering over their project on the next table. "Normal" meant sitting in the cosy common room, laughing at Fred and George's jokes and enjoying the fire's warmth as the evenings grew colder. And "normal" meant getting up early for twice-weekly Quidditch practices.

Harry was not sure he would ever be as obsessive a Quidditch Captain as Oliver Wood had been, driving his team out to practice in the pouring rain and in the pitch dark. Happily, his team all seemed keen enough so far to turn out for practices in the misty autumnal mornings, and there had been no need to resort to any of Wood's more manic exhortations yet. It was a pleasure, not a penance, to soar through the cool grey sky before breakfast, watching the orange and yellow leaves falling from the trees nearest the Quidditch pitch and inhaling a smell which was a mixture of damp tree bark, broom polish and bacon wafting from the Great Hall. It was even more of a pleasure for Harry that Ron could now join him in all these experiences. Ron was absolutely determined that Gryffindor should wipe out all their opposition on the Quidditch field this season, and he would bombard Harry with his ideas for tactics as they walked together to the pitch, leaving a trail of their footprints marked in the dewy grass. 

Prashant Patil had joined the Gryffindor team for Quidditch practices, and listened to any words of advice Harry gave him with a spellbound attention which Harry found almost embarrassing. Parvati, not the keenest flier herself, but proud of her brother's talent, had lent Prashant her own broom, a very serviceable Nimbus 1500 she had been given by their parents in her second year. Harry found Prashant very quick to pick up the tactics the rest of the team suggested to him. They took to having Seeker contests, releasing the Snitch and competing to spot it first. Prashant had a good eye for the Snitch, although he could not yet catch it as nimbly as Harry could, nor pull out of a dive as quickly as Harry, on his Firebolt, could. Still, Harry thought Prashant would make an excellent Reserve Seeker, though he hoped he would not need to use him this season - Harry did not want to miss any matches if he could help it.

The Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin Quidditch teams had all begun practising too. Draco Malfoy was still the Slytherin Seeker, and was taking every opportunity to sneer at Gryffindor's chances of winning the Quidditch Cup with Harry as their Captain. Every time he met Malfoy, Harry thought about what Neville had told him - that Malfoy's aunt was imprisoned in Azkaban - and he wondered what Malfoy would say if he were to tell him that he knew about it. Knowing that Malfoy's father was a Death Eater, Harry wondered if Lucius Malfoy was proud of his sister-in-law for her crimes, or merely scornful that she had not managed to evade punishment, as he had.

Draco Malfoy often received packages of cakes and sweets from home, and he had been sneering for years at the fact that Harry never got any post of this sort. At least, Harry thought, Malfoy was not able to make _those_ jibes any more, because this term Harry _had_ been receiving post from home - for he almost thought of Gatehouse Cottage as that, after the summer he had spent there. Every week this term he had had letters and notes - from Sirius, from Remus, and even from Mrs. Figg. Mrs. Figg, in addition to asking after Blackie, had started sending him packages of her home-made cakes and biscuits, and, while these were not quite up to Mrs. Weasley's standards, Harry appreciated the thought behind the gifts. It felt good to have something to share with Ron and Hermione, who had been sharing their treats from home with him for years. 

Whenever he received a note from Remus - usually a very short one, as Remus was always busy these days - Harry remembered how struck Remus had seemed by the sight of Professor Stoddard. She had reminded him of someone, he had said, and Harry wondered who that had been. Professor Stoddard worked the fifth-years hard during her Defence against the Dark Arts lessons, but they had grown to like her - as Harry had instinctively done when he had first met her in the apothecary's shop. She was strict, but fair, and underneath her businesslike exterior she had quite a strong sense of humour. Liking Professor Stoddard, however, did not stop the students from complaining about the amount of homework she set. 

"How am I supposed to fill four rolls of parchment writing about ways of blocking Disfiguring Curses?" Ron asked, as he, Harry and Hermione made their way towards Hogsmeade on the first Hogsmeade visit of the term. Although the sun was shining, there was a bite in the cold wind, and they were all glad of their cloaks. "She only told us about two ways, and I've written them up, but it only ran to one and a bit rolls."

"If you'd read the whole chapter in the book, Ron, you'd have found there are _seven_ ways of blocking them, altogether," Hermione said, a note of reproof in her voice. 

"I did read it. Well, sort of. I looked at all the pictures - did you see them, Harry? Some of those victims of Disfiguring Curses looked _unbelievably_ gross."

"I liked that story she told us last week about the Ministry wizard who fought off the Lethifold," Harry said, grinning at Hermione's pained expression. "I wouldn't fancy meeting one of _them_."

"Yeah, they're pretty scary - I hope Hagrid never tries to keep one as a pet," Ron said cheerfully. "At least we're not in much danger of being maimed while he's still teaching us about Glumbumbles."

"I suppose we can always hope one of them'll sting Malfoy and really depress him," Harry suggested.

They had reached the main street of Hogsmeade, where plenty of other Hogwarts students were moving from shop to shop. "I need a new quill from the stationers'," Hermione remembered. "And didn't you say you'd run out of red ink, Ron?"

"Yeah, might as well go there first."

Harry had paused to look in the window of Dervish and Banges' wizarding equipment shop, his eye caught by a display of magical gardening tools. "You go on, I'll catch you up," he said. 

Ron and Hermione headed off to the stationers', two shops along, and Harry turned back to the window display. He was sure Neville or Professor Sprout would appreciate the tools, which were much more sophisticated than those they used in their Herbology lessons. Harry had never seen Magical Topiary Shears - _Just say the word, and marvel as they cut your overgrown hedge into the shape of a handsome Hippogriff, or maybe a magical Manticore! _- or Wizard Watering Cans - _No more time-consuming daily Watering Charms! Keep your garden green with our self-filling cans, just one Resetting Charm per week needed! _Christmas was still weeks ahead, but Harry wondered if a magical gardening tool might be a suitable present for Remus, whose garden at Gatehouse Cottage was certainly in need of some attention. 

As he looked into the shop window, Harry noticed a familiar figure reflected in the glass, and he turned to look. Professor Stoddard had just come out of Gladrags' Wizardwear, across the street. She was wearing slightly shabby dark blue robes, not her usual black teaching robes. With one hand she carried shopping bags, and with the other she was holding the hand of a small boy. He looked about five years old, and was carrying a box in his other hand with great care. A girl, a few years older and with brown hair in two plaits, was walking beside them. 

Harry hesitated, but Professor Stoddard had seen him. "Hullo, Harry."

Harry took a few steps towards her, and said politely, "Hullo, Professor."

"All by yourself today?" Professor Stoddard asked, quirking an enquiring eyebrow at him.

"Not really - Ron and Hermione have just gone to the stationers'," Harry explained.

The small girl and boy were regarding Harry with great interest. "These are my children," Professor Stoddard explained, although Harry had already guessed that. "This is Victoria, and that's Eric. This is Harry, one of my students."

"Hullo," Harry said gravely, as the small boy stared at him with wide eyes. 

"I've got a rat!" Eric announced. "Just got him today! Would you like to see him?"

"I _don't _think you should open that box again until we get home," Professor Stoddard said firmly. "We don't want him escaping again - it took us long enough to catch him in Honeydukes'."

Eric's face fell. "What's your rat's name?" Harry asked quickly.

"He hasn't got one yet. Vicky wants to call him Brownie, but that's a silly name." 

"My friend Ron had a rat once. It was called Scabbers," Harry told him, wondering what Professor Stoddard would say if she knew the true identity of Scabbers - Peter Pettigrew, Death Eater and betrayer of Harry's parents.

"That's a good name," Eric said. "I think I might call mine Claws - he's got really long ones."

Harry was just agreeing that this was an excellent name for a rat when Ron and Hermione joined them. They greeted Professor Stoddard politely, and were introduced to Victoria, Eric, and the rat who might be named Claws. 

"Have you got a pet?" Hermione asked Victoria.

Victoria, who appeared to be rather shy, blushed deeply and said very quietly that she had a kitten. 

"Hermione's got a cat called Crookshanks," Ron put in. "It's a man-eater - huge great ginger thing." 

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Harry interrupted quickly, "I've got a cat too - called Blackie."

"Oh yes, I've seen her with you," Professor Stoddard said. "Well, we'd better get on - nice to have met you - come on, Vicky - Eric, keep that lid _on_ -" She moved away with her family, nodding pleasantly to Harry and his friends as she went.

"They seem nice," Hermione said.

"_Vicky_ - does that remind you of anyone?" Ron murmured, with a bit of a grin on his face. Hermione refused to rise to the bait. 

"Come on," she said, "let's go to Zonko's. I know you're both dying to go there, so let's get it over with!"

*****

Harry had the feeling that Hermione's Prefectly conscience was troubled by some of the items he and Ron had bought at Zonko's, the wizarding joke-shop. Harry could see her looking at some of the things their fellow-students were buying, too, and envisaging the havoc that could be caused with these tricks in the Gryffindor common room. She managed to turn a blind eye, however, probably thinking that some of Fred and George's latest inventions were worse than any of the things to be bought at Zonko's. 

Their last port of call in Hogsmeade was The Three Broomsticks, where they stopped for a drink of Butterbeer, and were very amused to watch Madam Rosmerta stumble and drop an entire tray of drinks on the head of Vincent Crabbe, drenching him. Since Malfoy and Goyle were also well splattered with assorted drinks in the ensuing chaos, the three Gryffindors all enjoyed watching it immensely, and were still laughing over the incident as they walked back to Hogwarts.

"Aah - Malfoy - with that redcurrant rum dripping off his chin," Ron sighed ecstatically. "It was almost as good as seeing him being turned into a ferret."

"And Crabbe - with that cocktail umbrella stuck in his hair - " Harry started to laugh again. Hermione, forgetting her Prefectly dignity, kept breaking into giggles every few yards at the memory.

As they neared the front door of the castle, Harry saw Professor McGonagall hurry out on to the front steps, and gaze at the path, as though searching for someone. Seeing Harry, Ron and Hermione, she beckoned them energetically.

"Uh-oh, what's happened now?" Harry muttered to the others. 

"As long as she's not going to tell us the first Quidditch match is cancelled," Ron hissed. The first game - Gryffindor v. Ravenclaw - was in a week's time.

"Potter - you're needed," Professor McGonagall called, as they came within earshot. "Professor Dumbledore wants to speak to you in his office."

"Professor _Dumbledore_ - " Harry felt a lurch of trepidation in his stomach. "Has something happened?" he asked Professor McGonagall, as they reached her.

"Professor Dumbledore will explain everything," Professor McGonagall said tartly. "I'll take you to his office now. Weasley - Miss Granger - hurry along to Gryffindor Tower, if you please. It's not long until dinner time." She ushered them all into the Entrance Hall.

__

What does Dumbledore want? Ron mouthed at Harry, as he and Hermione turned to go up the front staircase. 

Harry shrugged, and mouthed back, _Don't know._

Harry followed Professor McGonagall along the corridors, although he had been to Professor Dumbledore's office several times before and knew the way to the ugly stone gargoyle which marked the entrance. Professor McGonagall gave the password, (_"Mint Humbugs!"_) and stepped back as the wall opened to reveal the moving spiral staircase which led upwards to Dumbledore's office. 

"I won't come up with you, Potter," she said. "Professor Dumbledore is expecting you." She watched Harry step on to the moving staircase, and then walked away rapidly, frowning as though she was worried about something.

Harry wondered, as he rose upwards, why he had been summoned. Did Dumbledore just want to update him on what was being done to protect the wizarding world from Voldemort? Somehow, Harry doubted it. He had a nasty feeling that something had gone wrong - and his first thoughts were of the people at Gatehouse Cottage. With all his heart, Harry hoped that Voldemort had not caught up with them. _Please don't let anything have happened to Sirius or Remus, _he thought. _Or Mrs. Figg, or even Mundungus._

At the top of the moving staircase was the oak door with its griffin knocker. Harry knocked once, quite loudly, and the door swung open.

Dumbledore was seated behind his desk, stroking the golden head of Fawkes the phoenix, who was perched on the arm of his chair. "Ah, Harry," he said, as Harry stepped forward. "Do sit down."

Harry sat down, reluctantly. He was full of questions, but knew from experience that Dumbledore never told anyone anything until he was ready. 

"I expect you're wondering why I asked you to come and see me," Professor Dumbledore said amiably, continuing to stroke Fawkes's feathers. "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

Harry leant forward anxiously, nearly falling off the edge of his seat. "_Voldemort_ -?"

"No - that is, I hope not. To the best of my knowledge, Lord Voldemort is in hiding in Wales. I am taking all the steps I consider necessary to prepare for whatever he is planning, as you know, Harry."

"Then - what -?"

"Ah. Yes." Dumbledore's face became grave, and he regarded Harry with his hands clasped in front of his chin, his fingers steepled. "I had a message from Remus Lupin today. It seems that Mundungus Fletcher - you know him, don't you?" 

"Yes - he was staying at Gatehouse Cottage in the summer when I was," Harry said.

"Indeed - well, it appears that Mundungus went out the day before yesterday to patrol the neighbourhood, and make sure that everything was as it should be." Dumbledore paused. "He did not return."

"You mean - he's gone?"

"Naturally Remus organised a search for him, but there appeared to be no clue as to what might have become of him. Remus decided to have another search - yesterday - before notifying me of Mundungus's disappearance. He and Sirius and Arabella Figg all went out to search different parts of the area - as did a few other friends of mine who live nearby." Dumbledore paused again. Harry waited. "I fear that the news I have had from Remus today is not good. He tells me that Sirius has not been seen since he went out to look for Mundungus yesterday, and that there is no trace of him either."

*****

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To be continued…


	14. Part 14

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Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling, and are used without her permission.

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Author's Notes: Does anyone remember this story? A year between chapters, I'm sorry! Would it make things better if I claimed to be JK Rowling and said I'd been too busy writing Book 5 to update this? No…well, the truth is that I lost the inspiration to write fanfic for a while, but seeing the film of HP2 has kick-started me into continuing this. The remaining six chapters should be up over the next month. Honest.

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Summary: Harry longs to know what has happened to Sirius and Mundungus. Malfoy gets an unusual present, Fred and George get into trouble, and Harry makes a rash decision. And what is the mysterious "List"?

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*****

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Part Fourteen

*****

__

"…Sirius has not been seen since he went out to look for Mundungus yesterday…"

__

"…there is no trace of him…"

Dumbledore's words were echoing in Harry's head as he sat on his bed in Gryffindor Tower. Blackie had jumped up on his lap and was licking his hand occasionally with her rasping little tongue, clearly trying to comfort him.

It had been several hours since Professor Dumbledore had told Harry about the disappearance of Mundungus and Sirius, and he had spent most of that time alone in his dormitory. 

"You must try to carry on as usual,"Dumbledore had told him, as they faced each other across the desk; Fawkes staring beadily from one to the other of them. 

"But-" 

"_No_, Harry," Dumbledore had said, as if he were reading Harry's thoughts. "Sirius would not want you to put yourself at risk. The search is, of course, continuing, and I assure you that there are excellent people - most capable people - assisting in the efforts to find Sirius." 

He had paused, meeting the intensity of the look in Harry's green eyes. "_No_, Harry," he had repeated. "You must carry on here. You know that Sirius would want you to do so." He dropped his hand on to Harry's tense shoulder for a moment, before deliberately changing to a lighter tone of voice. "And do not despair, Harry. Things may not be as bad as they seem. And we may receive good news at any moment."

Harry had recognised the sense of Dumbledore's words but still, walking silently from Dumbledore's office to Gryffindor Tower, Harry had found it very hard _not_ to despair. It was true that Sirius's disappearance - and Mundungus's disappearance, too - might not have anything to do with Voldemort and his Death Eaters, yet Harry knew that the odds of that were slim. Immediately, his mind had filled with all-too-vivid images of that night in the graveyard when Cedric had died. Although it regularly visited his dreams, he did not need to be asleep to conjure up the dreadful sights, the haunting sounds, and even the heavy metallic smell of blood and fear. Harry knew better than anyone else at Hogwarts - even Dumbledore - about the sheer evil which was fuelling Voldemort's actions since that terrible night of death, mutilation and rebirth. 

And if Voldemort had managed to get hold of _Sirius_ already - Harry's fists had clenched inside his robes. It wasn't _fair_. Those few weeks at Gatehouse Cottage in the summer, really getting to know his godfather for the first time, had been so satisfying - a tantalising taste of the kind of home Harry might have one day, if the threat of Voldemort was ever removed. If Sirius died, one more hope for the future would be gone. 

Harry's thoughts were swirling so fiercely with hatred and worry that he had almost walked into the Fat Lady without seeing her. "Watch out there!" she had cried in alarm, before recovering herself and adding, "Password?"

Inside the common room, Ron and Hermione had been waiting anxiously to find out why Dumbledore had wanted to see Harry. One look at their friend's face had told them that the news was not good. A part of Harry's mind had appreciated their concern, but he just could not face discussing Sirius's disappearance yet, so after giving them the news briefly he had excused himself and gone up to his dormitory. To his relief, Ron had not followed him. Blackie, however, had been sitting bolt upright on his bed, waiting for him, and although Harry had merely stroked her mechanically at first, the warm softness of her fur was comforting.

In Harry's imagination, it was only too easy to replay the night of Cedric's death again and again. He saw again the smoky images of his parents, issuing from Voldemort's wand - he heard the screams and sobs of Wormtail, clutching at his mutilated arm - he felt the thud as Avery, a Death Eater, flung himself before his master, pleading for mercy - and he saw Cedric - dead.

Only this time, when Harry closed his eyes and saw the motionless, silent figure on the ground - eyes wide and soul flown - it was not Cedric, but Sirius.

*****

"Er…Harry?" Ron's red head was poking around the edge of the dormitory door, his expression unsure. 

Harry lifted his own head. He had been lying flat on his bed, Blackie on his chest, for the last hour. He had not been aware of falling asleep, but somehow the sky outside the dormitory window had altered from afternoon to evening. "Yeah?"

"D'you feel up to coming to practice tonight? Only it's supposed to be starting now…but I can tell the others if you like - "

Harry sat up, awkwardly pushing Blackie off his chest. "No…no…I'm coming." He supposed that he couldn't go on brooding in the dormitory indefinitely, and playing Quidditch seemed like something which just might keep his mind off Sirius, with luck.

When he and Ron reached the changing rooms they found the rest of the team ready and waiting for them. "So, Captain," Fred said cheerfully, polishing his Beater's club on his robes, "what are we doing tonight? Got any tactical charts to show us, à la Wood?" 

Harry managed a smile, pulling on his Quidditch robes and buckling his kneepads. As they walked out on to the pitch, a few minutes later, he tried to put his worries about Sirius out of his head for a while, but it was difficult. Thoughts of where Sirius might be now - what might be happening to him - thoughts of Remus's worry, too, and Mundungus's possible fate - kept floating into his head as he hovered on his Firebolt, watching the Chasers practising penalties against Ron. He was barely aware of what his team-mates were doing, until a stray Bludger missed his head by about two inches.

"Oops! Sorry, Harry," called George, swooping above him to retrieve the Bludger. "Didn't you see it, though?"

"No. Sorry," Harry said, looking up at him.

There was a whoop of triumph as Angelina succeeded at last and managed to get a penalty shot past Ron and into the middle hoop. Grinning, she looped the pitch, but came to a halt as she saw Harry's face.

"Er - is something wrong, Harry?" she asked, clearly trying not to sound too curious. "You don't seem quite yourself tonight."

"I'm fine." Harry looked away from her, to where Prashant was hovering on Parvati's broom, looking eagerly all around him for any sign of the Snitch. Harry left Angelina abruptly and flew over towards Prashant. "Come down," he said, pointing towards the ground. "You can practise on my broom for a bit. I'm going to watch."

Prashant did not need a second invitation, and headed eagerly for the ground. "Wow! Can I _really_ have a go on the Firebolt, Harry? _Thanks!_" He shot off on the Firebolt like a small red and gold torpedo, whizzing between Fred and George in spectacular fashion. 

Harry spent most of the rest of the practice leaning against one of the goalposts, watching his team go through their moves above him, and only occasionally calling out advice or instructions. He noticed Angelina having a quiet word with Ron, and suspected that she was asking Ron if he knew the reason for Harry's sombre mood. However, when the rest of the team returned to the ground at the end of the practice, not one of them said anything to Harry about his unusual behaviour, and Harry wondered if Ron had warned them to leave him alone. 

*****

The following day seemed very long, and there was no further news. Harry found it just as hard to concentrate on homework as it had been to concentrate on Quidditch, and the usual Sunday activities did not appeal to him. 

He was very glad that Ron and Hermione were not forcing him to talk about Sirius or even making "comforting" remarks. They left him in peace and he sat in a chair near the common-room fire, a book open in front of him, though he could not have told anyone what the book was about. Next to him, Ron and Hermione were sitting at a small table covered with books. Hermione was organising Ron into sorting out the notes for their History of Magic project. Harry let their voices wash over him, without hearing what they said. 

He was distracted from staring at his book by the sound of a cough. Prashant Patil was hesitating in front of him, shifting rather awkwardly from foot to foot.

"Did you want something?" Hermione asked, looking up from a four-foot long parchment.

Prashant looked embarrassed. "Um…I needed to tell Harry something…Harry…I'm really sorry, but I can't come to Quidditch practice tomorrow night."

"Oh, why not?" Harry asked, surprised. Since his selection for the team, Prashant had been extremely keen _not_ to miss any Quidditch training, usually showing up at practices before anyone else did.

"I've got a detention from Professor McGonagall," Prashant confessed, keeping his voice hushed in an obvious effort to prevent Parvati hearing from her seat across the room.

"Detention? What for?" asked Hermione, wearing what Ron called "her Prefect face". 

"Oh give him a break, Hermione, it's not _that_ hard to get a detention," Ron said lazily.

"Well, you should know, you and Harry have been in detention often enough," Hermione retorted, before turning back to Prashant. "You must be careful, Prashant, I'm sure you didn't mean any harm, but we can't afford to lose too many points for Gryffindor, you know."

Prashant, looking rather shame-faced, nodded. 

"Er…what did you _do_, just out of interest?" Harry asked, and thought he saw a gleam creep back into Prashant's eyes.

"I…um…Raymond Crabbe put a lump of Malaclaw guano down my neck in Potions, so afterwards I…er…put a hex on him." 

Ron snorted into the book he was holding, and Harry grinned, despite himself. Hexing the revolting younger Crabbe did seem like a detention earned in a good cause. 

"What sort of hex?" Harry asked, avoiding Hermione's eye and hoping he wasn't encouraging Prashant.

"Jelly Legs," Prashant said, brightening a little. "Only he staggered into the door of the book storeroom, and Professor McGonagall was in there, and she came out and…er…I got detention." He looked earnestly at Hermione. "She didn't take any house points off me though, honest." 

Harry saw Hermione's lips twitch, but she only said, "Well, don't make a habit of hexing people, Prashant - you don't want to get into Professor McGonagall's bad books." 

Prashant did not seem too worried at the thought of being in Professor McGonagall's bad books, but he did give Harry a last apologetic look and repeat, "I'm _really_ sorry about Quidditch practice, Harry," before turning away.

After Prashant had hurried back to the other first-years, Hermione shook her head and said, "We didn't even _know_ that sort of hex when _we_ were first years - honestly, the older students shouldn't be teaching him stuff like that…"

Ron's ears flushed a guilty red. "Yeah…I mean, no…" He changed the subject - rather quickly, Harry thought. "_So_, which book did you say that Wendolen the Weird was in again, Hermione?"

Hermione, after one long, suspicious look at Ron, leaned over the textbooks once more.

*****

Harry felt as though he was walking around under a cloud for the next few days. The worst part was not being able to explain why he was in such a dark mood - several of the other Gryffindors were giving him a wide berth, assuming that he was just in a bad temper. He had visited Professor Dumbledore's office several times, only to be told that there was no more news yet, and that the search for Sirius and Mundungus was continuing.

Fred and George, anxious to promote team harmony before the Ravenclaw match, tried to cheer Harry up by demonstrating their latest invention during breakfast on Tuesday morning. As the owls flocked into the Great Hall carrying the morning post, Harry felt Fred nudge him in the ribs. 

"Looks like Malfoy's got something interesting, eh George?" Both the twins were looking eagerly across at the Slytherin table, where an owl had just delivered a shiny, gold-wrapped package to Draco Malfoy. Harry noticed that Raymond Crabbe was sitting with his brother, Goyle and Malfoy again. He seemed to be sticking very closely to the Slytherin fifth-years for protection since the Jelly Legs hexing incident. 

Malfoy had now opened the packet. From where Harry was sitting, it looked as though it contained mints, or similar white sweets. Malfoy was smirking, as he usually did when his frequent parcels of sweets and treats arrived, and handing out the sweets to his Slytherin cronies. 

"What are you looking at?" Hermione asked, as she and Ginny arrived at the breakfast table. She took the seat Ron had been saving for her, and glanced across the room to see what the twins, Ron and Harry were gazing at with such interest. 

Before any of them could reply, there was a succession of sharp popping noises and several shrieks from the Slytherin table. This was followed by an outburst of noise as the rest of the school turned to see what was happening. Craning over several people's heads, Harry couldn't help grinning as he saw that Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Raymond and several other Slytherins were now sporting long, drooping moustaches and looking very irate. The Gryffindor table was rocking with laughter. Even Hermione was giggling, her hands to her mouth.

Next to Harry, Fred and George were whooping and slapping hands. "Moustache-Making Mints!" George told the other Gryffindors gleefully. "Good, aren't they? We got the idea after that incident with the Ageing Potion last year when we had the - er - beard problems."

"McGonagall doesn't look too happy," Ron warned the twins, as he caught the eye of the Head of Gryffindor House. She was standing by Malfoy, listening to the indignant protests of the unhappy Slytherins, but her suspicious gaze was aimed piercingly in Fred and George's direction, and her expression was not amused. "She's looking right at you." 

"Why does she always think it's _us_?" Fred asked, in an injured voice.

"It _was_ you," Ginny pointed out.

"Oh, yeah." Fred did not look too upset about the prospect of Professor McGonagall's wrath, however. "Still, it was worth it. Got one over on Malfoy, _and_ made our Captain here smile for the first time this week."

"Yeah, lighten up, Harry," George said. "Don't worry about the Ravenclaw match - trust me, we'll flatten them."

Harry smiled again - weakly, this time. If Fred and George thought that he was worrying about being Captain for the match against Ravenclaw, he would let them go on thinking that. 

*****

That week seemed to be one of the longest Harry had ever known. Around him, the pattern of school life was apparently "normal" again. Mrs. Norris now fled whenever she saw Blackie, although Filch did not seem to have found out the identity of Mrs. Norris's attacker. The Gryffindor team had had several more Quidditch practices. Malfoy was still obeying Fleur Delacour's instructions in Potions lessons, although not with a good grace. His moustache had soon disappeared, but he was clearly longing to get revenge on the twins, and looked daggers at them whenever he met them - not that this seemed to bother Fred or George much. Harry and Neville had done some more work on their History of Magic project for Professor Binns, and Neville's cousin had sent them some interesting facts about how the Department of Magical Law Enforcement worked. Professor Stoddard kept loading homework on to the fifth-years, and the other teachers seemed determined to keep them busy as well. Harry didn't mind this - working hard at least gave him less time to worry. 

By Friday evening, however, as he sat in the Gryffindor common room, Harry had finished most of his homework, and even the Quidditch match next day could not occupy his thoughts. None of the friends who had been trying to cheer him up all week were around, for a change - the common room was unusually quiet. Fred and George were in the dungeons somewhere serving a detention with Filch - the result of Professor McGonagall's investigation into the Moustache-Making Mints. Hermione and Ron were in the library, working on their History of Magic project _again_ - Ron had told Harry that the project was already seven rolls of parchment long but Hermione seemed to be nowhere near running out of ideas. Ginny had accompanied Neville over to Hagrid's hut to ask his advice about Trevor the toad, who had been looking off-colour lately. Dean and Seamus had challenged Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley of Hufflepuff to an Exploding Snap contest. Even Blackie had disappeared, probably to chase mice round the Hogwarts grounds with Crookshanks. So, unusually, Harry was alone. There was still no news at all from Gatehouse Cottage, and he was starting to feel as though he _had _to do something himself to help Sirius, despite Professor Dumbledore's warnings. 

"_Why_ hasn't Remus _written_ to me, even?" he muttered to himself, angrily. "He must know I'm wondering what's going on - at least he could tell me how the search is going - " 

Harry was finding the thought of the silver key in his trunk very tempting. If he used the Portal, he could go to Gatehouse Cottage; he could see if Remus was all right and demand to be told what was really happening. Remus would probably be livid with him, but it would be better than this awful uncertainty, this not knowing. He had to _know…_

The few Gryffindors in the common room took no notice when Harry went up to his dormitory. It only took a few seconds to find the key, but for several minutes Harry sat on the end of his bed, the key heavy in his hand, trying to make up his mind. The worst thing was that he knew that he couldn't tell Ron and Hermione he was going back through the Portal. Hermione would be horrified - not so much, Harry knew, at the idea that he would be breaking rules, but at the danger that Harry might be putting himself in, going out of Hogwarts alone, especially after Sirius's disappearance. She might even feel that she had to tell Professor Dumbledore of Harry's intentions. Ron would understand why Harry felt he had to go, but he would not be happy either. Ron had great respect for Professor Dumbledore, and he already knew that Dumbledore had forbidden Harry to go out looking for Sirius. He might try to talk Harry out of going through the Portal, and Harry knew that if he waited any longer, he might think better of it himself. This was his opportunity - while none of his friends were around, and no one would stop him. With a sudden feeling of resolution, Harry stood up, and dropped the silver key into the pocket of his robes.

*****

It all seemed too easy, somehow. Harry did not meet a single person on his journey along the quiet stairs and passageways from Gryffindor Tower to the corridor with the faded flowered carpet and the statue of the Quidditch player. The stone Quaffle lifted easily out of the statue's hand, this time, and the key turned smoothly in the lock Harry had oiled. 

Harry pushed back the statue's stone arm and heard again the grating rumble as the black opening in the stone wall appeared, the cold breeze blowing gently out of it. He looked quickly to the left and right down the corridor, but nothing stirred, and no one appeared to challenge him. Taking a deep breath, Harry ducked his head, and squeezed quickly into the hole in the wall. Within seconds, he felt the air around him begin to whirl furiously, as he was swept into the cold, black cloud and transported away by the Portal.

When he stepped out into the tiny stone room beneath the ruins of Blackdale House, Harry felt almost as though he was still in the Portal, it was so dark. When he had been here before with Ron and Hermione, starlight had illuminated the underground room with a faint light, but tonight was cloudy, and he could hardly see his hand in front of his face. He found the stone bench by knocking against it painfully with his shin. 

__

"Lumos!" The small bright light from his wand allowed Harry to find the rough stone steps and climb out of the room on to the springy grass and mossy stones of the Blackdale House ruins. It had obviously been raining in Yorkshire that day. The ground squelched beneath his feet as he walked in the direction of Gatehouse Cottage, and every time he brushed against a gorse bush it flicked drops of water on to his robes. As Harry entered the tree-lined path that had once been the drive to the big house, more water dripped from the leaves of the trees over his head and ran down the back of his neck. 

There were lights in Gatehouse Cottage. Harry's heart lifted at the sight. As he got nearer to the gate, he moved with extreme caution, remembering how Mundungus had Stunned him when he first arrived there. Mundungus was missing now…but Harry was sure that Remus would still be keeping a sharp look-out for intruders. Harry was still torn between a desire to march into the house and demand to know what was going on, and a fear that Remus might curse him into the middle of next week for his idiocy in leaving Hogwarts and coming out alone into the darkness of the moors.

Moving along the side of the house, trying to avoid stepping in muddy puddles and walk silently at the same time, Harry began to hear a murmur of quiet voices coming from the direction of the sitting-room. Pressing himself against the wall, he managed to get close enough to the window to hear what the voices were saying, though he did not dare to risk a glance through the window, in case he was seen. 

"Sirius _did_ get to the Pettigrews' old house, then?" That was Mrs. Figg's voice. She sounded edgy and anxious.

"Yes, we know that much." That was Remus. "He sent me a message to say that he'd searched the place - it's been empty since Peter's mother died, you know. We wondered if Voldemort might be using it as a meeting-place - whether it might even be the place they'd taken Mundungus to." 

"But there was nothing there?"

"He said not - but that was the last I heard from him. So he may have met someone after sending me the message - he may have come across something. We've searched the place ourselves since then, of course, but there doesn't seem to be anything there now."

"What _I _should like to know," said a third voice gently, "is why Voldemort - as we presume - chose this time to take Mundungus."

Harry, pressed against the wall, barely breathing, froze at the sound of this new voice. _Professor Dumbledore._ He hadn't been expecting to meet _him_ at Gatehouse Cottage tonight. Remembering the steady look Dumbledore had given him when he had forbidden him to go looking for Sirius, Harry knew very definitely that he did not want Dumbledore to know about his rash use of the Portal tonight. 

"One has to wonder," Dumbledore's voice continued, "if Mundungus had discovered something about the Death Eaters which Voldemort did not want him to pass on."

"Mundungus _did _seem very excited the last few days before he disappeared," Harry heard Mrs. Figg joining in the conversation again. "He had this theory - something he reckoned he'd found out when he was spying on Avery and Nott - about this List."

"Yes, this List - it does exist then?" That was Remus, strained and urgent. "Mundungus was right?"

"Yes, I am sorry to say that the List does exist, Remus," Dumbledore's voice said heavily. "There have been several mentions of it from my other sources - a message for Simon and Amaryllis Lestrange was intercepted - "

"The _Lestranges?_ But they're still in Azkaban, aren't they?"

"That is true - but messages _can_ still get through, Arabella - I'm afraid these days it is hard to know who can be trusted fully. Fortunately, several members of the Order are doing excellent work on our side - and putting themselves at great personal risk."

Harry was surprised to find himself thinking of Professor Snape. He had been gone from Hogwarts for several weeks now, and Harry knew that he must be carrying out some sort of secret work for Dumbledore. Was he, perhaps, spying on Voldemort even now? And what was the "Order"?

"I'm going to check all those possible sites again tomorrow," Harry heard Remus saying. "I know there's not much chance of anything else, but we've got to keep looking."

"Mark my words, we need to keep following Avery and Nott," Mrs. Figg put in. "They were the ones Mundungus heard talking about the List. They could probably tell us a lot more."

"I don't want you to put yourself at increased risk by travelling into these places alone, Remus," Dumbledore's voice said, sounding rather stern. "We can't afford to lose you too."

There was a strained pause, before Remus's voice said flatly, "I'll be all right - but we need more people, it's true - "

"I have another member of staff who, I believe, would be willing to help us," Dumbledore said. "Professor Stoddard, my new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, is highly gifted in the area of self-protection, and she knows the histories of several Death Eaters extremely well. I would like you to meet her, Remus - I believe you might work well together." His tone had changed almost to one of amusement, Harry thought, puzzled.

"If you think so, I'll meet her, of course, but I will be busy for a while - I must search those sites - "

"No, Remus, I would _prefer_ you to discuss the situation with Professor Stoddard and myself first," Dumbledore said, and Harry recognised a certain steeliness in his tone. "_Tomorrow_, perhaps, at Hogwarts?"

There was a definite note of resignation in Remus's reply. "Certainly, Headmaster. I will come."

"Excellent! I believe there is a Quidditch match tomorrow - you will enjoy that. And Harry will be delighted to see you."

At the mention of his own name, Harry's face burned with guilt. If they found out he was here, eavesdropping on them - Sirius would have been furious with him for dashing over here -

"I should have written to Harry, or gone to see him, before now." Remus sounded guilty too. "He must be worried out of his mind about Sirius. Thank God _he's_ safely at Hogwarts, anyway. The last thing we need now is for Voldemort to get his hands on Harry again." 

Outside in the garden, Harry edged away from the window. Much as he wanted to know more about what Remus, Mrs. Figg and Dumbledore had been discussing, he knew that he needed to get back to Hogwarts quickly, before anyone realised he had gone. He couldn't run across the grass, though - it was an agonisingly slow process creeping away from the cottage, trying to get back to the open moorland without making a sound, knowing that few ears were sharper than those of Remus and Dumbledore. Even when he reached the tumbled stones where Blackdale House had stood, Harry did not feel safe. The determination and anger which had brought him here in defiance of instructions - anger about being kept in the dark over the search for Sirius, anger against Voldemort - had evaporated, leaving him feeling not just worried, but guilty too. He hadn't felt this small since Remus - when still his Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor - had told him off for sneaking into Hogsmeade when the world believed that Sirius was out to kill him.

__

"Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive, Harry. A poor way to repay them - gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic tricks." 

Stumbling down the stone steps into the pitch-black underground chamber, Harry could feel his face burning at the memory of those words. It _had_ been a mistake to ignore Dumbledore's instructions and go to Gatehouse Cottage in the hope of speaking to Remus, but…this time, he hadn't just broken rules to sneak into Hogsmeade and have fun in a joke shop. He'd done it to find out about Sirius - _Sirius_, who might be dead already. Like Cedric. 

Tonight's escapade might have been stupid, Harry decided, but that did _not_ mean he should give up on Sirius. If there was any way he could find of helping in the search - of helping in the wider battle against Voldemort - he would do it. Remus was coming to Hogwarts tomorrow. He would talk to him and find out, if he could, what this "List" was that they were all so worried about. 

__

Tomorrow - Harry was astonished to remember suddenly that tomorrow was the day of the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. His very first match as Gryffindor Captain, and he had hardly given it a thought all day. What he needed to do now was to get back to Gryffindor Tower as soon as possible and get some sleep. He felt his way blindly across the stone chamber until he reached the black Portal, where the cold air blew on to his face. He was only too eager to get away from this place tonight. 

Harry stepped forward into the Portal, and was caught once more in the middle of the icy whirlwind, the air rushing around him, blowing through his hair, making his eyes water, until it slowed again to leave him in dark stillness, and he stepped out of it into the quiet Hogwarts corridor where the statue waited and lamps glowed softly.

But the corridor was not deserted, as it had been when he had left. Two people were standing against the oak-panelled wall opposite the Portal, watching Harry as he climbed out from behind the statue. And one look at their faces was enough to tell Harry that he was in big trouble.

*****

__

To be continued…


End file.
